


Scent of Innocence

by my_thestral



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9264863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/pseuds/my_thestral
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy is in a world of trouble like only one confused teenager could be. No date for a Yule Ball yet - with only three days to go! - and no idea who to take. Oh, and no right opportunity to discuss his confused sexuality with his best mate yet - because all bloody Al Potter seems to care about these days is, what his dreamy, artistic cousin Hugo is up to! Now how is that Scorpius's concern?!





	1. That damn Yule Ball!

**Author's Note:**

> This was a part of the [Sceasleycest's December 2016 fest](http://sceasleycest.livejournal.com/) and my sincere thank you goes to the super fast and capable [bleedingangel84](http://bleedingangel84.livejournal.com) for another beta job of epic proportions.  
> I had to squeeze this one in before I tackle another fest, but the fandom needs more of this pairing and looks like someone's gotta write it (*volunteers*)
> 
> Disclaimer: Nope, still not making any money from this, as the characters clearly aren't mine, but it's not always about the money, is it? ;)

“Look at him! Just _look_ at him, and tell me that’s not a waste of good Weasley genes! All that potential – and look what he’s doing with it!”

Oh, no… I rolled my eyes like the proper martyr that I was. Don’t tell me we stumbled upon Hugo _again_! At this point I’d rather come across a Bubotuber leaking pus! We had things to discuss, for fuck’s sake, big things, important things – after all, the Yule ball was just around the corner, and we needed dates – the _right_ dates! Sadly, all my best friend Al was keen on these days was lamenting the sorry life choices the youngest Weasley was happily pursuing. Not that Hugo gave a sick rat’s arse about all the anxiety he was causing his cousin – er, nope, that wasn’t his style. He was nowhere near grounded enough for that.

Joyfully strolling about the castle with smudges of paint and unknown substances smeared upon his face – usually on his brow or his cheek because he was often absent-mindedly fixing his long, glossy hair behind his ear – Hugo was quite blissfully ignorant of all the ruckus he was causing. That, or he simply didn’t care. He definitely cared less than I, ready to have a breakdown every time I saw a sign of brilliant red colour on the horizon, and just knowing I’ll be submitted to another half an hour of Al’s hissing about his cousin’s poorly-used talents and neglected assets. Why couldn’t the silly Potter just let the eccentric boy be?! Al was as close to a superstar as one got to be in the wizarding world. Why did he even care?!

So what if Hugo was the best Keeper this school has seen in ages, but after a year on the team, he flat-out refused to play? True, he nearly gave James – the now-former Gryffindor captain – a coronary, but the redhead had a right to choose, and if he said he found it boring… Well, I suppose it was boring – if you played the entire season and only let eight bloody Quaffles in! Quidditch wasn’t everything. Well, unless you were James Potter. In that case, Quidditch is the whole fucking cake with a cherry on top. No one was surprised to see him go professional. And… I might have had my own reasons for being so tolerant of Hugo’s unreasonable stubbornness. You see, I’ve been a Chaser for Slytherin for a while now, and Hugo made me cry several times the last season he played. I as sure as hell didn’t miss him on the field. Nope!

And so fucking what if the dreamy redhead with a golden cloud of freckles and the physique of a professional athlete calmly refused to date? It happens! He just wasn’t game; nope, not at all. With no encouragement whatsoever from him, Hugo had enough girls batting their eyelashes at him to cause tornadoes across the planet; yet he was about as interested in them as I was in growing pimples.

“Just look at that!” Al, the alleged number one Casanova of Hogwarts, would hiss enviously every time Hugo strolled past us. His fiery head was always so clearly stuck in the clouds that he never seemed to notice the small army of squealing girls that followed him around. “Look at him! He’s got all the best genes! He doesn’t do anything to look this fit. I swear to God, it’s bloody effortless – and he does fuck all with it!”

Did I mention that next to his average height, my best mate Al also has a vile tongue? Well, he does. I suppose that’s what comes with being the only Slytherin in the Potter-Weasley clan. He, along with the rest of us serpents, is also rather obsessive.

“Imagine what I could do with those fucking long legs and those bulky shoulders?! You’d never stand a chance against me, Malfoy!”

I mean, you’d imagine that someone that aggressive would welcome Hugo’s decision not to compete for the available supply of female curves at school… but not Al! The boy is so bloody competitive he thought having me as his only proper contender for the title of biggest Hogwarts slut was _lame!_ For the record, I could give him a run for his money in the honourable discipline of dating, yeah? More so because the poor sod was – much to his dismay – related to half the school. As things were, he was far more challenged than I in who to bestow his charms upon. To put it simply, I could choose whichever girl I wanted to, and he… not so much.

But he, being a true Slytherin, promptly decided to cheat, and he opened up his dating options considerably by also starting to pick up random boys. Merlin, I was furious! How dare he?! If that wasn’t unfair competition, then I don’t know what was! For a good while, I was certain that he was only doing it to annoy me, until he once got drunk as a chimp and tried to pull Professor Longbottom, the head of Gryffindor house. Talk about awkward! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so close to the colour of a baboon’s bum as poor, very much married Professor Longbottom when Al sat in his lap! I was almost tempted to humour my poor mate the next morning when he repeatedly whined to be obliviated. I suppose that after that particular fiasco, I was a tad more convinced that Al really didn’t have a clear preference when it came to one’s gender. And it got me… interested.

Not that I should be, _God, no_ … As the very last heir to the name of Malfoy, I assumed I would be a proper disappointment to my father if I didn’t get engaged to a nice girl from reputable family straight out of Hogwarts! But still… I was curious. So, I managed to, uhm, _borrow_ a few copies of Wizards ’n’ Brooms from Al’s brother James during my visit of the Potter household. What?? I was going to give them back, but did you know that Scourgify doesn’t work that well on paper? Uhm, no, neither did I. Anyway, I borrowed – permanently – the damn thing, not expecting much, or rather, not knowing what to expect. I just thought I’d test – uh, you know, scientifically – my interests, and measure my responses to compare them to those I had to girls. Only – no such thing actually happened.

You see, as soon as my confused cock spotted the glossy pages full of fit, gorgeous men doing very naughty things, its confusion was no more, and it let its preference be very obviously known. In short, I ended up wanking to nearly every page of that sinful, lovely publication, and I’ve been miserably torn ever since between the glory of being able to compete with Al once again, and the horror of acknowledging my unwelcome new interest in front of the entire world, including Father. Damn it, I wasn’t Al Potter! I couldn’t do and choose as I pleased with some Aunt Hermione having my back for representing a minority! I was the last Malfoy; I had responsibilities to the family name – yet ever since I had sunk into the beautiful world of longing for boys and drooling over their, uhm, glorious bits, I knew that was it.

I wasn’t even sure I could swing both ways the way Al did. Sadly, my rampant, evil cock had made the choice very clear. It was always ‘mildly’ to ‘not interested’ in all the girls I was dating and fooling around with. But just a stray thought, the flash of an image of any naked male body – ripped and covered in droplets of sweat from playing Quidditch – and my knees went weak and my cock turned into a jackhammer. It was all right while we actually played Quidditch, because everyone was covered from head to toe in protective gear – the showers after practice, though… _Pure, sweet torture_. I feared them, and anticipated them feverishly because they provided some of the only fuel for my insatiable teenage hormones.

I spent most of my showering time stubbornly facing the wall, but inevitably allowing my weakness to take over and glancing covertly towards the other boys, lathering their bodies, laughing and making dirty comparisons. Some of the guys kept pushing each other about playfully, the soap making their muscles appear slick and glossy, just like in those magazines… _ohhh…_ While some of the boys were at half-mast from the warm water and their own hands, spreading the soap down their wet, naked bodies, I was fucking solid. No one was as desperately hard as I was, not even Al; a carefully concealed glance told me as much. So I kept my deviant cock pressed into the wall so it at least appeared as if it was semi-erect, despairing that I probably looked as if I was interested in fucking the damn wall. I waited for everyone to leave, unscrupulously lying about loving long, hot showers – plausible for a spoilt Malfoy – just to have a sweet, glorious wank afterwards. I couldn’t bloody walk around without one.

I was always a wreck afterwards – my body soft as a jelly, but my head all over the place. I’ve been desperate to talk to Al about it for ages, to confess and perhaps at least come clean to the one person I was the closest to, but with the damn Yule ball around the corner, our lives have turned into a circus, and there has never seemed to be good time for it.  It didn’t exactly help that every time I tried to bring it up, I felt as if I’d swallowed a bloody Bludger and I couldn’t utter a word, couldn’t think of where to start so it wouldn’t be awkward between us, and a thousand crazy, scattered thoughts assaulted my half-hearted intent…

Like, what if Al thought I was only doing it to compete with him? Well, I was, kind of, at the beginning, but one look at those magazines had cut that monster’s head – only that Hydra has grown too many heads to count since! Or – Merlin help me – what if he thought I was trying to pull him? Don’t get me wrong, I _loved_ my gorgeous, olive-skinned, green-eyed best mate to bits but he was, uhm… just not my type. James… perhaps. Quite a bit taller than his brother, beautifully built, with that copper tinge to his dark locks… yum. A bit too flashy, though… and it would be awkward, oh god, yes. Too awkward for words, much less a fair attempt. Not to mention he was out of reach since he left Hogwarts. So, er, no. Back to Al I was. Oh, Merlin, what if I brought up my predicament in the same sentence as I brought up the Yule ball, and he thought I wanted to go with him?! Merlin save me! He was a Potter, he’d probably go with me out of sheer pity!

That blasted Yule Ball… honestly! I blamed it all on that unfortunate thing. Most glamorous event in a decade, they called it but it was really the Yule ball that made it all urgent; it was three days from now and I still didn’t have a clue who to take. Should I fake it and go with a girl? Rose Weasley, perhaps, the closest thing I had to a female friend? Would she take pity on me? Nah, she was probably three times overbooked by now, gorgeous and popular as she was. Lily Potter? She’s such a pretty girl, but so sweet and innocent. Yeah… that last bit made it into a big, fat nope. Al was extremely protective of his baby sister, and if he as much a suspected I was only using her for a beard, I just might end up that particular evening without my favourite bits.

Or… should I just put my balls on the table and ask a boy? The problem was – _which_ boy? There were plenty I liked in general, but no one in particular! Merlin, so many important life questions with no answers, and – still – no one to talk to! Oh, why did my silly sexual orientation go and ambush me like that?! I had a good mind not to go to the Yule ball at all, with the way my stupid teenage libido trolled me!

“I bet he won’t even go to the Yule ball – or he’ll show up all by himself!”

The words woke me up from my brooding, and they seemed to mirror the depressive cloud of thoughts in my head so well that for a moment there, I had a wild thought Al had turned into a crazy Legilimens! I had already opened my mouth to comment on it, but I promptly closed it when I discovered that he was still looking at Hugo. Oh, yeah, Hugo… what was the annoying boy still doing here, taking away the precious time I had with my mate? Who cared if the carrot-head didn’t go to the bloody ball?! Well, other than half a school of squealing girls, but still. I didn’t care, and Al shouldn’t, and that was all that mattered.

“Who cares if he doesn’t go?!” I finally barked in annoyance, when I was certain the dreamy redhead was safely out of hearing range. “He’s your cousin, so not dating material. Why do you keep bringing it up?”

But Al just looked at me as if I was from another planet.

“Because he’s family, of course,” he said softly. “We take care of our own; that’s the first thing Grandma Molly taught us, with a pancake pan around the ears if she had to. Teddy wasn’t allowed to go swimming unless we all went. He was expected to take care of us and keep us safe. Just as we were expected to stand guard when he was snogging Victoire and didn’t want Uncle Bill to know just how much.”

Oh. I never thought of it that way. I sighed. Not having any family other than my parents to speak of could be annoying at times, and it often left me lacking knowledge of certain social codes of behaviour.

“Fine, then,” I mumbled grudgingly, realising this was going to have to be dealt with. “So, what do you want to do about it?”

“Find him a date, of course,” Al said calmly. “I’d take him myself, but as you cleverly pointed out – he’s family, so that would be bloody awkward. Not to mention that it would make half of the school cry if two of the hottest blokes in Hogwarts went together,” he shrugged and gave me his warmest shit-eating grin.

I just rolled my eyes, ignoring the provocation. Honestly, if you could bottle Al’s self-confidence and sell it, you’d have more money than God. That shit is worth pure gold.

“So, who are you taking?” he asked me so suddenly it knocked the breath out of me. There was a strange gleam to those mischievous emerald eyes of his that could only mean one thing: he was going somewhere with this question – no way, he didn’t have a hidden agenda. But I didn’t care. This was the first time we’d really touched the subject, and I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass by. By this point, I didn’t even care if we were standing in the middle of the hallway and not somewhere more private and cosy; this was too bloody important!

“There’s one thing you need to know first…” I said in a shaky voice. “I think I might…”

“Hey, how’s my favourite pair of serpents doing?”

No!!! No, no, no, no, no!

Bloody Rose Weasley! Don’t get me wrong – I love the rambunctious girl to bits, but her terrible timing is the stuff of nightmares. She _always_ breaks up the best conversations.

“Hey, Rosie!” Al said with a genuine smile. Thick as thieves, those two; I heard Rose was crying for days when they were broken up at the Sorting. “I swear, if you spend any more time in the library, I’m going to have to introduce myself next time I see you; you won’t recognise me anymore! Scorp and I were just busy discussing the Yule Ball, like everyone and their mum. Who are you going with, pretty face?”

Only Al with his Slytherin charm and his “favourite relative” status could get away with calling Rose Weasley _“a pretty face”_ – that girl put her own mother to shame with her fierce _“I can do anything boys can, only better”_ attitude. But because it was Al, she just smiled at him indulgently, smacked his butt playfully before he could see it coming, and replied cheerfully:

“Oh, I’m going with the Scamanders.”

“Which one…? Wait, _what?_! With both of them?!”

Al’s jaw just hit the ground, and mine wasn’t far behind. That was a little extreme even for Rose.

“Yep!” she confirmed merrily. “And stop giving me that look. It was an _accident_ , really, more than anything else. Lorcan asked me first – or was it Lys? – and I said ‘yes’, but then Lysander… or… oh, never mind, the other one asked me as well, and I didn’t really realise that it was the other twin, you see. So, I said something like “Oh, you know I’ll go, I considered it a deal already” and though he gave me a funny look, I didn’t think much of it. But then they both showed up in front of me a day later, a bit bruised, and demanded to know who I was going with. Uhm… I couldn’t really decide, you see, I can’t bloody tell them apart, can I?! So, I asked them if they were all right with the idea of going with both – like, the three of us – and they exchanged this really weird look and smiled to the point of their heads nearly splitting in half, and they said _“Yes!”_ as one – so that was pretty much it.”

Oh, bloody hell. I guess Rose didn’t know how dirty a teenage boy’s mind could get. I saw the same alarmed look on Al’s face. He’d already opened his mouth to say God-knows-what when she added as an afterthought:

“But then again, I might ask Lily to join us. She’s been a tad depressed lately. It seems that the boy she was hoping to go to the ball with never thought to ask…”

Well, that must have been some arse! Girls didn’t get any better than Lily Potter; she was fun and pretty as a flower, and so very sweet! I had an urge to smack the idiot across the gob myself, as soon as I found out who it was. Which, considering the dark, disapproving looks Al and Rose were both giving me, might have been expected of me. Strange. Still, I was ready to get right on it. My honest, vengeful intentions came to nothing, though, because in that moment Rose asked curiously:

“And who are you taking, Scorp?”

 _Fuck_. Just… fuck. What the hell was I supposed to tell her?! I couldn’t come out to her, she wasn’t Al, and… ugh, just no. How incredibly _dumb_ of me that I hadn’t thought to have a non-committal answer ready for an inquiry like that!

“Well, I haven’t quite…” I started in a choked voice, but Al beat me right to it, and the sly smile on his pretty face should have warned me.

“Funny, you should ask, Rosie! Scorp and I were just discussing Hugo when you interrupted us.”

No!!! What?! No!! Fuck you, Al, you cheeky idiot… He wasn’t lying, technically speaking, but now Rose was going to think…

“ _You_ … are planning to take _my brother_?”

The way Rose was looking at me, you’d think someone told her I was planning to rob the Gringott’s and run off into the sunset with hobbling ol’ Filch. Which was still much more plausible than me taking Hugo to the Yule Ball.

“I wasn’t…” Wait, I had to be careful. Like all the Weasley-Potter-Grangers Rose was fiercely protective of her own family, and her dreamy, artistic brother made the top of the list. I was so not interested in going to the Yule Ball with furry piggy tails growing out of my ears or some such; that girl was mental with her hexes!

“What makes you think he wouldn’t go with me?” I choked out instead. There. Let her tell me, and I’d promptly agree to all her reasons and kick Hugo off the non-existent list of my candidates.

“You’re not good enough for him,” she said, as if she was merely stating an indisputable fact.

Wait – _what?!_ I, the one contender of Al Potter to the title of top Hogwarts hunk, was not good enough for one measly, scatterbrained Hugo Weasley?! Oh, she had _better_ be joking!

“Well, I beg to differ,” Al offered calmly because, hell, _yes,_ that’s what best friends are for! “I think you’d be perfect together. Sadly, he doesn’t care for what I think, and I guess you can’t make him change his mind. He’d never go with you.”

Excuse me?! Have I woken up into some bad, twisted reality in which Albus Severus Potter, my best friend, thought I couldn’t pull some oddball like Hugo Weasley?! I bloody well could, and I was willing to prove it!

“Like hell he wouldn’t!” I hissed angrily. “Why would he turn me down? It’s not like he’s going with someone already, is he?”

Was he? I looked at Rose and she shook her head reluctantly.

“No, he hasn’t said yes to anyone… yet. Not for the lack of offers, though! I swear, I can’t talk to him for ten bloody minutes before someone stops by and squeals if he’s willing to go with them, but unless he’s found someone in the last half-hour since I met him, he remains unattached.”

Oh, good. Well, fuck. I mean… not good. What the hell was I doing?! My sluggish brain was slowly catching up with me and I just realised that I was led like a fool into a trap, carefully laid by that clever green-eyed serpent that called himself my best friend. How did I ever agree to asking the infamously eccentric boy to the Yule Ball again?! Oh, fuck me backwards!

One look at Al’s big sunshine grin told me he knew that I had finally woken up and found myself up to my confident cock in the hippogriff dung. Oh, to hell with him and his competitiveness! Now, how do I get out of this one without surrendering my guns?! I had been way too cocky to simply back off – and I wouldn’t – not in front of Al anyway; and the bastard knew it!

“Moment of truth, then, Mr. Confident,” the green-eyed devil incarnate elbowed me in the ribs. “Here he comes. Time to blast him with your glorious charm.”

And there was Hugo indeed, strolling down the corridor, with green smudges on his forehead like the markings of some guerrilla in the bush, and… _a paint brush behind his ear?_ Oh, Jesus, kill me now! How am I supposed to pretend to be serious about asking him to the most elegant, prestigious, event of the year when he looks like one of those Muggle hippies singing about peace in the world?! Still, I had to at least give it a semblance of a fair attempt; I wasn’t just going to hand this one to Al  on a silver platter!

Rose turned around politely, her shoulders shaking with restrained giggles as Al practically pushed me in Hugo Weasley’s way, so he either had to stop or run me over with those endless legs of his. But as distant as the look on his face might have been, he clearly kept his Keeper’s instincts well oiled. He stopped about an inch from me and slowly looked down at me from his freakish height… and I was staring straight into Hugo Weasley’s face for probably the first time without his protective Quidditch gear blocking the view.  And all the noises of the busy world around us seemed to slowly fade away, as if reality somehow got switched off and the time came to a halt.

From up close, Hugo’s sapphire-blue eyes were really something. I mean, oh, god… really. They took my breath away. Not only they were the most intense, brilliant colour I have ever seen, the pattern in them seemed to change, almost as if they were made to glitter. They were in a beautiful contrast with his ridiculously long eyelashes, bronze coloured and looking incredibly soft… almost girlishly soft, only the effect was nullified by those strong Weasley eyebrows framing his face. He had breathtaking eyes. And with no effort at all, he was looking at me as if he could see straight into my heart with no obstacle whatsoever.

He said nothing because he was just weird like that, but he kept looking straight into my eyes, and the spell he kept me under was pure magic. I felt, for once in my life, like I didn’t have to explain myself – this boy on the other side of our silent bond simply knew who I was. I saw his lips move, but for a while there, I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying because they looked obscenely soft, rosy and simply… oh, god, kissable. I’d love to kiss them, I wondered how they tasted. And speaking of tasting him… those freckles… a golden trail of them just above his upper lip, looking utterly lickable, just waiting for my tongue to collect them. That pale, virgin skin of a true redhead seemed to have a pearly glow, and it emitted the most heady scent I’ve ever come across. It was like the earthy fragrance of warm skin, mixed with the edgy, rich scent of the paint, and it was so sexy and intoxicating, I could barely keep away. Oh, god, he smelled like a massive orgasm to me…

“Excuse me, I’d like to pass,” his voice finally floated into my ears, and the way he had said it - impatiently - it was obvious he had already said the words a few times. But I was only slowly zoning back in, and I could barely make out Al’s hysterical chuckling and Rose’s sighed, _“Merlin, this is embarrassing”_.

And it took a while before it began to dawn on me how foolish I must have looked. Merlin’s golden knickers, I was supposed to ask him…

“Would you go to the Yule Ball with me?” flew out of me, and though my invitation had the grace of an armoured cow, at least the kneazle was out of the bag now, and perhaps this god-awful, awkward situation could still be salvaged somehow. Suddenly, I realised I was no longer entirely averse to the idea of going with Hugo Weasley, and if he said yes…

“No,” he said calmly, but it still felt like a slap that woke me up completely. _What??_ But why not?! I knew I should have been happy, really – only I had just realised I was uncommonly upset!

“Hugo! Manners!” Rose gasped, and the redhead closed his eyes for a brief second as if trying to gain composure to humour her. When he opened them again, he said in the same polite but adamant tone:

“Thank you… but no. I don’t wish to go with you.”

“But why not?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. He tilted his head gently as if he was trying to get a better perspective of me, but then without another word, dislodged a bag from his shoulder, pulled out an empty scroll, and said imperiously:

“Turn around.”

Seriously, I don’t know what was up with that boy… I mean, at 17, I was a year older than him; Al and I were practically the uncrowned kings of Hogwarts – but when Hugo Weasley told me to turn around, there was such hidden authority in his voice, it might as well have been in the form of a Howler from the queen of all intimidators, Molly Weasley. I turned around with no objections, and I felt him plaster a scroll to my back. I could feel his hand moving, and it was incredibly fast and dexterous. He was clearly drawing, and this was something Hugo Weasley was exceptional at.

You see, there was another reason besides a set of war-hero parents and good looks that made the eccentric redhead popular with the girls. That boy could throw an exhibition of art featuring Hogwarts and its inhabitants that made the French and British Ministries of magic nearly declare a war every spring over who would purchase that year’s collection. He had an incredible knack for capturing people’s characters. Al told me he only ever saw his Uncle George bawl when Hugo painted his long-deceased twin, Fred, because he looked as if could’ve stepped out of the painting, alive and well. He certainly spoke to George Weasley that way, and the owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was often heard discussing business, joking and laughing with the portrait – and no one could really blame him. I once sat in front of the window for a quarter of an hour admiring the view, before I noticed that it was painted. I swear the damn thing had a breeze coming out of it! No wonder the girls were dying to be declared his muse.

And now he was drawing something on my back, and I couldn’t wait to see what it was. I certainly didn’t mind the sensation of strong, warm fingers pressing through my too-thin school shirt on either  side of the parchment. It was kind of… _erotic_ , to have a boy use me as his canvas. Oh, hell, fuck, no… I really shouldn’t let my susceptible horny mind wander in that direction.

But then the warm fingers moved away, and I knew he was done. As I spun around to see what this was all about, he shoved a parchment into my hand and just stood there, watching me silently.

I looked at the picture – and gasped. He sketched me… and I was ugly. I mean – it was me, it was _incredibly_ like me, the high cheekbones, the shape of my mouth, my fashionably longish, carefully-mussed up hair, the likeness – it was all there. Yet I was ugly. There was haughtiness to my expression, coldness in my stare, and a certain smirking, condescending trait in the curve of my mouth that yelled _“grandfather Lucius”_ from ten feet away and utterly shell-shocked me.

“This is how you look to me,” he said quietly. “You are self-absorbed, false, and certainly not very kind. Your beauty is skin deep, nothing but a shell you hide your shallowness behind. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’d only go with me to fulfill some childish challenge of Al’s. You’d never take me because I mattered to you, to show me a good time, to make me feel happy, proud, and admired, like anyone going should feel. So I won’t go with you.”

As he picked up his discarded bag, and gracefully moved around me to pass me by, I just stood there, frozen, sickened, feeling about two inches tall and ridiculously exposed. How did he see all that?!

“Oh, Hugo…” Rose whispered, sounding almost as shocked as I. “You shouldn’t have.”

His step stalled for a second and he turned his head around slowly, as if he had one last thought. His pretty face was unapologetic, his magical eyes fierce.

“You should have asked Lily,” he said darkly, with a tinge of sadness. “She waited… and you made her cry. You fool.”

Oh. _Oh._

So I was the stupid arse… _oh_.

I looked at Al, and for once the smirk on his face was gone, and he looked incredibly guilty instead. Slytherin or not, my best mate was a Potter, and as such, he didn’t have a single, truly bad bone in his body.

“Excuse me,” Rose said tactfully after taking one glance at us, because she was just super smart that way. “I have a certain bottom to dust. Hugo!!! Hugh! _You come here, young man!_ Remember that talk Mum had about not mixing up honesty with rudeness?!”

And she was off like a storm.

“Uhm… sorry about that,” Al said hastily – and more than a bit sheepishly – as soon as she was gone. “I had no idea he would go after you like that. Never mind him, he’s madder than a hatter. Lils and him, they’re joined at the hip, and I guess you triggered his protective instincts. I swear he turns into Grandma Molly when you step on his tail. I never should have tried to match you with him. He’s seven kinds of barmy.”

And only then something really important finally dawned on me – seriously I was über slow that morning – and I just blurted it out before I could stop myself:

“How did you even know that I was into boys? I never ever told you that. I imagine I’d remember such a detail!”

And Al just smiled that sly brilliant Slytherin smile of his that lit up his eyes like the green lanterns and made the girls crazy.

“Scorp, mate…” he said pointedly, “I reckon I could show you any male arse in Hogwarts, and you’d be able to match it to its owner. You _stare_ , mate. Like, you have a serious staring problem.”

 _OhmyfuckingMerlin_. I never knew. Well, nothing for it now; at least I was saved from the tedious task of letting Al in on a secret… which was apparently anything but. No point in chasing that kneazle on the loose anymore; I had a more important task on my mind.

“Never mind that now,” I said as casually as I could muster. “How do I change Hugo’s mind?”

I could’ve sworn I saw Al’s jaw hit the ground.

“You’re not _seriously_ considering still going on with the stupid challenge, are you?!” he looked at me incredulously with those big emerald eyes.

“What if I am?” I shrugged. I couldn’t say it, but the silly challenge was the last thing on my mind. Because, you see, from one moment to the next, I developed this utterly insane desire to take Hugo Weasley to the Yule Ball. Not as a challenge… but as my actual date. It seemed I was just a masochistic idiot that way… but his honesty took my breath away. The way he looked at me and said all those words… it moved me, as if somehow he had reached under all that polished rubbish I was made of and touched the true me – who happened to be a rather awkward, somewhat geeky, and truly shy guy. And then there were those eyes… yes. And _that arse_ when he walked away. Oh, yes… _yes_!

“Well,” Al said slowly, thoughtfully. “I suppose Rose would tell you to just be yourself.”

I gulped silently. Oh. Oh, blast. That advice was scary… and probably worth pure gold with regard to Hugo.

“Good luck,” Al said, sounding sympathetic, and then he unexpectedly hugged me around the shoulders. “If all else fails, I’ll take you.”

“Uhm… thanks,” I mumbled distractedly. I guess going as someone’s charity case was still better than not going at all, and I could definitely do a lot worse than Al. It was just… I didn’t want to go with Al. I wanted Hugo. The more I kept thinking about it, the clearer it became that the quiet redhead ticked all the boxes on my list of attractive traits. Being a redhead was the first, but not only one of those. Those blue-diamond eyes, the spray of golden freckles, that sensual mouth… tall with long, muscled legs, strong warm hands, and those dexterous fingers… oh, god, my stupid adolescent brain was making me hard with images of Hugo Weasley in a very public place! How stupid was I for never noticing him before?! And he didn’t date, so he was most likely still… _oh, totally worth it!_

So… being myself it was. If I still knew how.


	2. A chance at last

“You were right. You know… about me.”

I was standing next to Hugo Weasley in the Great Hall the following morning with my heart beating madly in my throat, silently praying he wouldn’t dismiss those words, because it took me long sleepless hours to come up with them. But they were sincere, and I hoped that would count for something in his book. I was clearly willing to make a fool of myself in front of all his Gryffindor companions, who seemed very obviously thrilled with the possibility of fresh, exciting gossip. It was less than ideal, sadly, that I had to ambush him at breakfast, but I only had measly two days to change his mind, and I was determined to make the best of them.

He didn’t react immediately as I was hoping he would, and my heart sank a little. Being sincere and myself was scary, and it came hard, but just when I was beginning to think that the price of Hugo’s company might be too high for me, he got up, turned towards me – and when his magical eyes found me, that one look was worth it. I kind of let myself drown in those depths of blue… and my hormonal, overactive imagination made me feel as if I didn’t even have much choice. As soon as our eyes locked, there was a buzz of connection between us so intense it was nearly palpable, and it… electrified me to the point of shivering. I was desperate to keep it.

“I know,” he said calmly, and made a big pile of books and painting supplies zoom into his hands with a nifty spell. But then he looked at me again and added quietly:

“But you’re here, so I wasn’t entirely right. Rose said you weren’t quite as bad as I made you out to be. Just… _troubled_.”

Oh, Merlin, bless Rose Weasley with a long, happy life, full of exciting books.

“Look, can we talk? Please?” I asked hastily, determined to keep on ploughing until my cow died.

“Not here,” he said curtly. “I’m late for my Care of Magical Creatures class already.”

Oh, damn. That didn’t go so well. At any other time, I’d be happy to just stand there and admire that glorious arse from behind, this time I couldn’t afford to lose the whole morning!

“Would you like some help with those arty… things… supplies?”

Oh, sweet Merlin on a pink tricycle, someone murder me now! What did my feverish, befuddled brain think I was – _twelve_?! Of all the desperate lines…

But as if by a miracle, he turned around halfway, and there appeared to be a small amused smirk in the corner of that lovely mouth of his.

“Not with those, no,” he said, sounding somewhat entertained. “But you can help me with the books. They need to go back to the library. I can’t drag them around in this weather; Pince would happily drown me in the lake.”

I nearly huffed when a pile of Hogwarts’ heaviest books landed in my lap, and I bravely tried to ignore several fits of giggles that erupted behind my back from the evil red-and-gold table. Here goes my cool… It only took me six-and-a-half years to build it up, and one unfortunately positioned pile of books to make it crumble. But it was all forgotten when the redhead slowed down graciously, and we were suddenly walking shoulder-to-shoulder. _That_ … was _definitely_ more like it.

Oh, sweet, horny Salazar, I could smell the fresh, exotic fragrance of his shampoo every time the silken strands of glossy red hair brushed against my shoulder, and the scent was making me wild and dizzy, and way too horny. How could someone smell so good and so impossibly… right? How did he not have people jumping him on that scent alone?

“Here we are,” he said, startling me stupid from my randy contemplation. How were we at the library already?! Oh, I did not just waste all that precious time thinking on how good he smelled?! All that got me was an embarrassing pressure in my pants. I seriously needed to get my act together.

“I’ll meet you here,” I said hastily, unwilling to waste the precious chance I had risked my reputation for.

“What for?” he looked at me perplexed.

“You’re not going out only in your shirt, are you?!” I asked alarmed. “It’s cold enough for penguins to be banging on the door, seeking shelter! You’ll freeze to death! We need our coats.”

“Malfoy, you’re seriously demented if you think I’d ever go up that tower just to get my coat – I’d barely be back by the dinner with the shifting staircases and whatnot!” he chuckled. “I came prepared.”

With these words, he pulled a perfectly shrunken winter coat out of his bag, enlarged it, and smiled smugly into my stricken face. Oh, hell of all hells, I wasn’t going to lose him now on some technicality, such as a winter coat I didn’t bring along, was I?! Oh, just how _rotten_ was my luck?!

“You can have this one,” he said matter-of-factly. Stretched out in his arms was a warm winter coat, freshly enlarged – with paint smudges all over. Oh, Merlin, Hugo…

“Uhm, I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got,” he smiled sweetly – and I was already busy putting the damn coat on. For that smile, I would have put a troll’s smelly sheepskin on top of it.

“My painting studio is just under the top of the Astronomy tower, where there is light aplenty, but it does get bloody cold up there, so I use this... and, uhm, it might need a cleaning charm… or twenty,” he said, almost apologetically, but I no longer cared… because that coat was the best thing ever. Even if it was slightly too big around the shoulders, it was ridiculously soft and warm, and best of all – it smelled of him, most divinely. So, suddenly I was deeply immersed into the sensual, addictive fragrance of Hugo Weasley teasing my senses, and I could barely hold back a moan. Oh, sweet _MerlinJesus_ , that boy was a walking aphrodisiac.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” he nearly made me jump again. Oh, damn… I could barely remember my own name around him, how the hell was I supposed to recall all those words I had been preparing so carefully?! Luckily, we had just stepped outside, and the cold gust of wind that blew a handful of snowflakes into our faces bought me some time. The day was bitterly cold, grey, and cloudy, as if it couldn’t quite decide if daylight was a good idea at all. It was certainly not a day that would fill anyone with optimism… but it was all I had.

“I know I’m all those things you called me…” I started awkwardly, just to say something and not lose more precious time. “Or at least I appear that way. But since you didn’t give me a chance to defend or explain myself before you stormed away, I’d like to do that now.”

He was silent for a few endless moments, and then he nodded: “All right. Sounds fair enough. Go on.”

Right, uhm… Where to start? I glanced at him sideways, nervously, but I immediately got distracted by a million lovely details in his profile, and I decided to stare straight ahead instead – looking at Hugo was clearly not a good idea.

“You called me self-absorbed, false, and not very kind,” I started, and I hated how insecure my voice sounded. “I am… _rather_ self-centred, but you have to understand this: I was literally the centre of attention of every living creature around me for nearly my entire existence. I have no siblings to compete with for attention and to share things with. It was just my grandparents, who adore me, and my parents, who are a tad overprotective due to, uhm, the events in that blasted war. And that brings me to another part of your accusation… uhm, I mean, argument.”

I chanced another frantic look at him covertly, but his serene, pretty face betrayed nothing. Merlin, that boy was fit to be an Unspeakable! I tried to focus on the road ahead, but the thick snow falling all around us made the image blurry, and suddenly everything felt somehow… surreal as if I was stuck in a trippy, dream-like alternative reality, where I got to talk to myself with no one except the world silenced by the snow listening in. When I opened my mouth again, my voice was strangely subdued, as if it was indeed coming through a thick veil of my suppressed feelings.

“As soon as I made it to Hogwarts, I realised that some people were more than willing to hold me accountable for the things my father had done. One of the first things I learned was that this was not a good time to be a pureblood. If your surname was Malfoy, you could not afford to show weakness. You could not. _I_ could not. I couldn’t show anyone how scared and lost I was, and how little I understood of why they called me those scary derogative names and threw jinxes at me from behind. I didn’t even know what a Death Eater was, for Salazar’s sake; I had to look it up in the library! Yet I got called that and worse, and I was completely unprepared. My father never, _ever_ speaks of the war, but it makes him have a glass too many in the evenings, and it makes him keep a very solitary existence. I honestly don’t know how I would have survived my first year if Al hadn’t got sorted into Slytherin.”

This was hard, all right? It felt like purging, and it made me feel fragile and strangely hollow, and… Merlin… so incredibly vulnerable just to remember those days. But then there was a puff of frozen air headed toward me, and I realised Hugo had turned his head to look at me. Was it my imagination, or was the curve of his mouth a bit softer? A second later, the little up-curve turned into a proper, most gentle smile, and my relief was so great and unexpected that I released a most embarrassing noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Oh, god. This was just… he had a _beautiful_ smile. I was willing to go a step further into my sorrow for that smile.

“Go on,” he repeated quietly, in that short manner of his; but somehow it wasn’t unkind, and I nodded with a knot in my throat. This was anything but easy.

“Those first few weeks… they left a mark on me. Being kind didn’t work for me; I was damaged goods on my name alone. I realised I had to act proud, just short of menacing, to be even left alone, and I could never let anyone see that their remarks hurt me. But they did, you see. I was paying for something I had nothing to do with, and it also affected the way I feel about my father. I… used to think he was the centre of the universe, and now… now I feel sorry for him. He donates to countless charities, anonymously, for something he did when he was barely more than a kid, and only to save his family. I swore I would never turn out like him. I would be the most popular kid out there, whatever it took. So I put a lot of emphasis on what people can see and appreciate – the glamour of the old money, the good breeding, the clothes and appearance, even my treasured friendship with Al – and I keep the rest buried underneath.”

“Why?”

Oh, blood hell, he just had to ask, didn’t he?

“Because I don’t think it’s worth much,” I managed, and I suddenly had it with the stupid snowflakes landing on my face, and the tears stinging in my eyes. I just wanted to run and hide and forget I ever said all those things… and forget I ever felt that way.

But suddenly, his long fingers were on my face, surprisingly, wonderfully warm and soothing, and I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and lean into that warmth for some comfort. His thumb, undoubtedly made rough by countless hours of holding the paintbrush, slowly moved down my cheek in the most erotic, heart-wrenching caress ever, and he spoke quietly, passionately:

“It’s the _only_ thing worth something. It is the essence of you… and it’s rich, and insanely colourful, and more beautiful than you can imagine. I guess I’ll have to paint a new image of you; the first one was… _not_ quite on the mark. Especially that part about your beauty being skin deep… _no_. Will you sit for me, Scorpius Malfoy?”

The proposal was shocking in so many ways, it literally froze me to the spot. He had used my name, my first name, and he was asking me – what?!

“What do you mean?” I said dumbly. “You don’t mean like… for the painting?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he smiled slightly, and it was scary how hypnotic his vivid blue eyes were against the pale, snowy background. He was clearly dead serious. It’s quite impossible to describe the mad mixture of contradictory feelings that flooded me. I just knew he’d be able to show the entire world who I really was – he was just good that way. But the thought was insanely scary. I’ve seen him capture the true gist of a person a number of times, and there was no doubt of his talent – he would expose and reveal me to the world and everyone would know that I was – what? Scared? Shy? Lost? All of those things? I was afraid of what I would see in my portrait, how much would shatter; what part of me was even real?

Yet the thought of posing for him was also incredibly appealing. Not only because he was referred to as “the prodigy” and people were willing to pay to see the way he viewed the world – but because there was the thrill of being close to him, and an unspoken promise of intimacy I was desperate for. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if I didn’t consent to this, that could be the end of my Yule Ball dreams with Hugo.

“All right,” I heard myself agree, while I could vividly picture my rational mind head-desking, _“Merlin, you horny idiot, stop thinking with your cock!”_

But this was not about my adventurous cock anymore; this was far more… _essential_. If I was intent on being dramatic, I’d probably call it self-discovery.

“Brilliant,” he said briefly, but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was genuinely pleased. His fingers brushed against my cheek one last time, and then his hand disappeared into his pocket. There are no words to describe how much I’d missed it. I was still a bit of a wreck, to be honest. But he had already resumed his route towards the Forbidden Forest, and I had no choice but to follow him.

“Why did you tell me all that?” he asked unexpectedly, and his voice was intriguingly dark and subtly demanding. I found I had no way of saying no to that voice; I loved its golden, solid undercurrent of power. Oh, sweet Merlin here we go. I gulped and then blurted out as fast as I could:

“Because I’d still like to take you to the Yule Ball.”

His step slowed down just a fraction, as if I had surprised him, but then it resumed its original pace and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

“So you would.”

“Will you let me?” I asked hastily because this was too good an opportunity to pass up. “This isn’t about some silly challenge anymore,” I kept rambling, desperately trying to keep my shaky voice under control. I really didn’t have a back-up plan if this failed. “It _was_ , initially; I’m not going to lie about that. I was ready to ask you simply because Al said you wouldn’t be willing to go – but even yesterday, that was not what happened. I took one look at you, and I felt… I asked you because I _really_ wanted to take you. Even though Rose told me flat out I was not good enough for you.”

“And she calls me rude,” he murmured, but there was a strange proud gleam in his eyes, and I could tell he didn’t really mind having such a fierce sister.

“So will you go?”

Those words barely made it past my lips. My voice was insecure and trembling, and my whole inside seemed to be resonating with it. It was part cold, part excitement, and just the overwhelming feeling that I was going to find out if I was, after all, good enough.

He looked at me one last time, as if he was trying to read me, and those blue eyes seemed to brand me from inside, leaving me raw and yearning. If he rejected me again…

“We’ll see,” he finally said quietly. “I need to see the real you before I decide. Tonight after dinner, the Astronomy tower. You’ll know where it is when you get there.”

Wait, what?! He wanted to… paint me tonight?! But that was… I wasn’t ready!

But he was already walking towards a group of his classmates, and I was left standing there, frozen and filled with confusion, nervous thrill, and a slow-burning fire of sweet expectation. This was as good an offer as I was going to get. He was giving me a chance. I told myself that was all I needed.


	3. More than meets the eye

I was slightly nervous all day long, to be honest. Just _slightly_ , nothing I couldn’t control. I might have charred Hagrid’s beard a bit (it was way too bushy anyway!), made Parkinson-Nott’s bowl of pudding explode (not proven it was me!), and slightly splintered Al’s wand (the nosy arse totally had it coming!). Oh, yeah, and I discovered I had absolutely _nothing_ to wear. All right, there was always my Yule Ball attire, but I had a tiny inkling Hugo might consider me overdressed if I showed up at his studio dressed to the nines. Oh, why didn’t I have any Muggle clothes to choose from like my friends did?! All I had were those stiff medieval wizarding clothes, a set of uncomfortable school uniforms and absolutely _none of it_ was nice! In the end, I ended up in school trousers – at least those hugged my arse nicely – and a soft silver jumper with a silly blue “S” on it that I got from Al’s grandma Molly Weasley last Christmas. It was a bit tight this year – but that was the point, wasn’t it?

He was right – I did know where it was when I got to the Astronomy tower. All the walls leading up to his studio were covered in paintings and half-done sketches. There was a roaring crimson dragon that ambushed me from around the corner, looking so majestic, gorgeous, fierce, and alive it made me jump two steps down. I immediately decided it reminded me of Rose Weasley – and quietly hoped she would never find out. The colourful, incredible portrayals of magical creatures and real people followed me all the way up the stairs, and at some point, I’d subconsciously moved to the side to clear the way for the painted Headmistress McGonagall marching down the painted staircase. Hugo was insanely gifted. By the time I made it to the door of his studio, I wasn’t sure if it was an actual door, or something he had painted onto the wall and made look real. But I decided to try my luck anyway, and I rapped with my knuckles on the surface, relieved that it felt like actual wood under my hand.

I didn’t hear any call to enter, but the door opened for me, and I was immediately hit by the fascinating smell of oily paint and candle wax. Merlin’s knickers, this smelled like an adventure already! I exhaled nervously and entered.

“Hey,” I heard Hugo’s voice coming from somewhere in the room. “I won’t be a minute. Get comfortable.”

But I was too in awe of everything I saw to be concerned with getting comfortable. I came expecting it would be cold up there, but I found myself in a pleasantly warm room which, more than anything, reminded me of a cave. There were candles everywhere, brightly illuminating the small, round place, with paint containers, and scrolls of canvas and parchment scattered all over the ground. Their warm, golden light made the studio appear cosy and intimate, and the effect was further emphasised by the relatively low ceiling rising to a point towards the centre that told me we were in one of the many turrets adjacent to the Astronomy tower. I was shocked to see that the ceiling had been charmed transparent, with evening mists and clusters of snowflakes landing all around us adding to the magic of the place. All the sounds of the castle were muffled up here, and it felt as if we were suspended on top of the world in a mystical crystal snow globe from my childhood, looking down onto the silent, virgin landscape like a pair of immortals. The place was pure magic; the feeling it gave me was almost… _godlike_. I could feel my own magic surging through me all the way to the tips of my fingers.

“You like?”

The soft voice came unexpectedly, and so close from behind my back, it made me jump. Hugo’s warm fingers were on my arm immediately, possibly to still me and calm me down, but their warmth spread up my arm like Fiendfyre, and from one minute to the next, my skin felt flushed and charged.

I turned around to reply, but the words got stuck in my throat. Oh, how _dare_ he… Hugo Weasley was shirtless, clad in nothing but a pair of paint-stained jeans that were entirely too low on his hips. And _MerlinfuckingChrist_ , was he ripped! Was painting some kind of an extreme sport I didn’t know about?! Oh, Al was so right – Hugo had all the best genes! And he had no right having a bloody meter across the shoulders at mere sixteen… no right whatsoever! That was just… oh, I am a proper sucker for broad shoulders, I’ll have you know, and Hugo’s were calling my name like a pair of Sirens!

“Scorpius?”

Oh, Merlin and Morgana in fishnet stockings, I was staring again, wasn’t I?! I gulped thickly and forced my eyes from the thin silver necklace that hung around the sexiest, most elegant neck I’ve ever seen on a living person, and ended with a tiny scorpion pendant, resting somewhere on top of his heart. Hugo Weasley was sin personified… on endless, muscled legs… with a slow, predatory smile that made me want to tear my clothes down the middle and scream _“Take me!”_.

“Sorry…” I whispered, and got another massive jolt of power straight from those blue eyes smiling at me. “I love you. I mean… oh, God… I love _it_. I love it here. That’s what I meant,” I said clumsily, mentally looking for a latch to pull that would allow me to sink all the way to China – surely it would be less painful than this. But he merely smiled at me again, somewhat intriguingly, and looked around the place as if he was seeing it for the first time.

“It’s all right, I suppose,” he nodded. “I certainly get all the peace and quiet I need to focus.”

“Do you often get people up here?” flew out of me before I could hold it back, and I’m sure that, by that moment, I was as crimson as one Malfoy could get – which would probably qualify as slightly rosy in everyone else’s book. But I couldn’t help feeling insanely jealous just at the thought of sharing this… this atmosphere, this this enchanting view, the sight of Hugo Weasley roaming around only in his jeans … with countless others. Oh, hell, I knew it was wrong, I just couldn’t help my stupid, possessive Malfoyian nature, all right?!

“Just you.”

He wouldn’t look at me when he said the words, which was just as well, because they took my breath away. Oh, my god, _really_?! Like… for real?

“Not even Rose?” My voice was genuinely shaking when I said the words - but I simply had to be sure.

“God, no. She’d probably want to clean the place up.”

“Lily, then?”

“Definitely not Lily,” he smiled. “She’s so romantic; she’d never want to leave.”

“Al?”

“No one. Just you.”

 _Ohbloodyhell_. And now what?

“Why?”

Oh, I just had to go and ask, didn’t I? I probably ruined everything!

“That’s why you’re here,” he said quietly, cryptically. “To find out why. I’m not sure I know myself.”

I just nodded this time. Clearly, I was not the only one without all the answers.

“Do you want to start?” he glanced at me, and when our eyes locked for a second, I had to hold back a shiver. There was that connection again, and it felt nothing short of physical.

“Uhm, sure,” I said a bit breathless, and feeling seven kind of awkward and distracted. “Where do I... sit? Or, uhm, whatever? Do I have to do something?”

“No. Just come here, we need to find a good place to position you; the light has to be just right…”

There was that distracted look I was so used to seeing on his face now, and I knew he was in his element again. That’s why it utterly surprised me when he held out his arm… and I nearly had to kick myself to take his hand with trembling fingers. Not until those long, warm digits locked around mine did I allow myself to believe my luck. Golden Merlin, did I love the feeling of my hand in his, or what?! It was big, wonderfully solid, and calloused – the hand of a boy who was used to putting it to good, hard use. He made me follow him around the room for a bit, occasionally dragging me in front of him and positioning me with a fiery river of candles at my back, murmuring something like _“No, this won’t do”, “Too much shadow”_ or _“Bloody winter, will it end already and give me some proper light?!”_ and then dragging me around some more. Until it was suddenly:

“Yes. Stand right here. Yes, this is it. That’s just perfect.”

To be honest, that spot didn’t look any worse or better than any other from my perspective, but clearly, to Hugo’s skilled eyes, it had something other spots did not. At that moment, I might have hated it a bit, because finding it meant I’d have to let go of his hand, and I loathed the idea.

He did let go of my hand, but only for a bit. As soon as he transfigured an empty paint can into a surprisingly comfy and glamorous looking sofa with one hell of a spell, he unexpectedly took both of my hands into his and looked me straight in the eye. Oh, I could do this forever and a day... Look into his eyes, I mean. They were so crystal clear I could see my awed face in them, and that thick fan of long, copper eyelashes was to die for… oh… I had a sudden, irrational desire to feel it brush against my cheek and the very thought made my heart flutter and my trousers feel tighter. Merlin, he was a sight…

“You’re going to have to trust me, all right?” he said quietly, with that silent, passionate power that ran through him resonating through his words. “This might be a bit unorthodox, but there’s no other way for me to do this.”

I nodded, my heart stuck in my throat, and the nearly soundless _“All right”_   barely made it past my lips. He smiled at me, and it was one of those heartbreaking, sweet, and sexy smiles that were clearly his trademark and had the power to take my breath away.

“Sit down,” he said, never letting go of my hands. When I obeyed, he sat down next to me, close enough for our knees to touch. Merlin, was he trying to give me a heart attack?! My breath hitched and my stupid heart was bursting with fireworks.

“Close your eyes,” he said in a subdued, yet incredibly commanding voice. “And whatever happens – please don’t move.”

“What – ?”

But he put a finger on my mouth, whispered, _“Please”_ , and with this one gesture, I was his. Merlin, yes... He was free to do whatever he liked with me. I closed my eyes willingly this time, or I would have made a complete fool of myself this way, staring into his heavenly eyes with his warm finger pressed gently against my lips. I could feel my cock swelling, and the mad pace of my heart set me on edge. Yes, I was better off not seeing Hugo Weasley sit next to me. Or so I thought.

Because in the next moment both his hands were on me – warm, calloused, yet cupping my face with incredibly tenderness, and I could barely hold back a gasp and a moan. My eyes flew open in shock, and I was surprised to discover that he had closed his eyes as well. Oh. I… I didn’t know what his game was, but I was more than willing to play. I closed my eyes again, and only then did his hands, still locked like warm, safe armour around my face, tremble in their first movement.

“Ready?” he asked quietly, and I realised he knew what I was going to do, and was giving me time to adjust.

“Yes,” I breathed, and I could almost see his tiny, dreamy smile blossoming in the corner of his generous mouth in my mind’s eye.

His fingers moved with breathtaking gentleness, outlining my face, brushing against its every feature – tenderly, thoroughly, leaving behind a trail of aching yearning for more. His thumbs swept across my forehead, and once again over my pale eyebrows, slowly, as if he was trying to remember their texture.

“So beautiful…” he murmured quietly, as if he could sense how much I needed the reassurance from him. He pushed the loose strands of my hair behind my ears, and I bit my bottom lip, hard, to stop myself from moaning when his fingers outlined every curve of my ears as well.

“This is how I learn,” he said in a low voice, his warm, moist breath teasing my skin from close by, as if it wasn’t prickling with sparkly, golden charge under his masterful touch already. “I have to experience everything… to remember, to understand, to create and play with later, wherever my imagination drives me. I once climbed all the way into the mouth of a sleeping dragon to get the texture right – my mum shouted herself silly at me as you can imagine. But you see, I need to know… I need to learn and feel the gist of things, their essence, their true nature and meaning. What’s on the surface has no meaning to me. And this…” – his finger brushed across my lips gently, and I thought I would die of it – “… this is also why I don’t date. I find it too empty and… superficial.”

Oh. But…

“But don’t you miss it?” flew out of me in a subdued, choked voice. Oh, Merlin on a golden cloud, what pitfall did my silly mouth lead me into?!

“Miss what?” he murmured as his thumbs outlined my cheekbones and the rest of his fingers caressed my cheeks. Oh, god this was…

“Sex…” I exhaled miserably, because this was honestly the only thing on my mind at the moment. _JesusMerlin_ , I was in heaven and in hell at the same time. I craved more, so much more, yet the swollen, untouched prick in my pants kept pulsating and filling… and pressing against the fabric of my trousers, begging for attention… and the pressure in my heavy balls was sending a warning, low-humming buzz of pent-up pleasure into every nerve-ending of my tense body. Oh, bloody hell, how much of this sweet torture was I still supposed to take?

He chuckled in a low voice, and then his fingers sank into my hair, strong, unapologetic, demanding. As soon as they moved to massage my scalp, they shot searing jolts of pleasure straight to my cock, and a hopeless whimper escaped me.

“Oh, yeah…” he whispered, his hot breath teasing the shell of my ear. “I wank like a motherfucker.”

“ _JesusfuckHugh_ …”

Oh, I didn’t just say that out loud… Someone murder me in my sleep, please! Judging by the tension in my balls, I was seconds from shooting my load, and I had no idea how to stop myself.

“You shouldn’t have asked, blondie…” he murmured sweetly, and then suddenly added in a hushed voice: “Be still now… please.”

And I held my breath just because he told me to. The only sound in the room seemed to be the rush of blood through my veins to a very unfortunate place.

And then they came. Tenderly, like the butterfly wings, his lips touched my eyelids, first one and then the other, and it was the world’s… _ohgod_ … fucking… most erotic feeling ever. I mewled most embarrassingly.

“Please…”

And I didn’t even realise I’ve breathed the desperate, choked word until it was out.

But then his lips brushed against mine, soft and tasting like pure heaven, and his gentle tongue slipped across my lower lip like a wistful lover… And I finally lost my shit.

“Hugo…”

God, I wanted that tongue. I wanted to come with it buried deep in my mouth, plundering, taking, licking that fucking fire he started in my veins, and I wanted it so much, I was willing to beg for it. I pulled him closer with the urgency of a desperate man, and I felt his forehead press against mine, almost as if he was trying to hold back. Oh, I _so_ wasn’t having any of it; this was a bloody emergency, this needed to happen!

“Please, just… kiss me… lick my mouth…” I whispered, so pleadingly I knew I’d be willing to die of embarrassment when I thought of it later, but at that moment, it didn’t matter one little bit. The heavy scent of sex was all around me, and I couldn’t think, I just wanted, wanted, wanted... Another desperate _“please”_ might have escaped me, right before  his strong teeth unexpectedly sank into my lower lip, and I was unable to hold back a moan. Oh, seven hells… he _so_ knew what he was doing… He worried my lip between his teeth for a moment, and then nibbled on it, making me teeter madly on that ungodly edge between pain and pleasure I loved so much. I could just die of this fucking thing.

“Fuck... please… I need… I need this… I need your fucking tongue fucking my mouth… please… I’ll do anything…”

“Anything?” he wanted to know in a muffled voice, and I tried to ignore the devilish undertone in it.

“Any fucking thing,” I promised, breathless and completely out of my mind with heavy, unforgiving lust.

“Will you come back tomorrow… to do the rest?” he whispered, and the very thought that there would be more… of _this_ , this _heavenhell_ , poured molten lust down my veins, and made me utter a yelped “ _Jesusfuck_ , yes, yes!”

His mouth found me… _ohgodhavemercy_ … and then our tongues met, and he tasted heavenly, deliciously of _moremoremore_ … They kept meeting and touching and brushing against each other in a sloppy, dirty way that made me ignore my need for air… and then they finally wrapped around each other like a pair of decadent serpents… _fuckingMerlinyesyesyes_!!

“So fucking needy…” he whispered brokenly, and the way he had said it just poured a bloody barrel of fuel onto my fire. I had one last helpless thought that I was being thoroughly tonguefucked by a boy who’s never even kissed anyone… oh, fuck… and with a muffled cry, I came in my pants, nearly fainting in the process. _Merlinfuck_ … I’ve never blacked out before… But this time… this time it was different. Hugo was different. He was a boy, and… _ohbloodyhell_ … I just had my first kiss with a boy, didn’t I? And what a kiss it was! I needed to have more, I was dying to have more, this couldn’t be it!

But he had promised me more, hadn’t he? Oh, this totally needed to happen. I didn’t even care about the fucking Yule Ball anymore, I’d go with a bloody troll if I had to, if only I could keep this...

“Can I open my eyes now?” I said weakly, and whimpered happily, when he pressed one last gentle kiss onto my lips.

“Of course,” he said in that subdued voice of his that revealed nothing, and I did. The very first thing I saw, though, knocked the breath out of me. The giant, hard bulge in his trousers was still there, and I had to keep back an excited squeal because it was just... fucking beautiful and I so wanted to touch it.

“You still didn’t – ”

“You need to go now,” he interrupted me, his eyes glittering like precious diamonds, and his body tense as a spring.

“But you – ”

“Tomorrow,” he told me, his voice urgent and unrelenting. “I need to paint now. Just…”

He brought out his wand and cleaned me in one brisk movement.

“Go now. Please, go,” he corrected himself more politely, as if realised how unorthodox his behaviour was. “And be back tomorrow, same time. Your portrait should be ready. And then we’ll do… the rest.”

I just nodded, my knees so weak I could barely get up, and my eyes kept being pulled towards him when I walked through the door he held open for me. I so _wanted_ to stay… why wasn’t I allowed?

But then a long arm pulled me back in, and I got bent backwards like a bow when his arms closed behind me, and he kissed the very breath out of me.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You are such a masterpiece… you don’t even know.”

Then he shut the door behind me, and my stupid, uncooperative legs finally said _“do it yourself”_. I collapsed by the wall in the corridor, and I was seriously considering spending the time until the next evening right there. I honestly couldn’t think of a better place to be… or a place I’d rather be. My head was swimming somewhere in the clouds, my body was still insanely boneless, and there was an ache in my heart I didn’t know what to do with.


	4. The making of a masterpiece

There’s no point in asking how I got to my dorm that evening. Not as if I have a clue, do I? I must have gotten up at some point and let my legs take me there out of habit, but I can’t say I’ve spared any thought as to where I was walking and how I got there in the end. Despite the late hour, Al was still waiting for me. Before, in a different reality, when my crazy, bone-melting encounter with Hugo had not yet occurred, I had mentioned Hugo’s invitation to him in a moment of weakness. He was my best friend after all, and he could be as annoying as any mosquito if he chose to, so I did it to get him off my back. He nearly fell off the bench in the Great Hall when I had whispered it under my breath.

“Merlin, he did _what_?!” he nearly shouted, and I had to quiet him down to prevent him from drawing even more attention to us. “But he _never_ asks anyone up there!” I’d never seen his eyes grow so big, green, and excited before. “At least I don’t think so… Bloody hell! Wait till Rose finds out about this! She’s been asking him for _ages_ to let her come up, but I don’t believe he’s ever humoured her. You know Rose – that wouldn’t have stopped her, but apparently, he’s got some really wicked charms on that door…”

“You’re not telling Rose!” I hissed – and I bullied him long enough that he grudgingly promised me he wouldn’t tell a soul. Right now, I was glad I insisted. I had no desire to explain to anyone how my meeting with Hugo had gone. I didn’t even know how, where to start, what words to use. Words were not enough to express all the colourful, wonderful, scary emotions this evening had filled me with. No, words weren’t up to the job. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and relive every moment I had spent in that enchanted snowy refuge filled with Hugo’s magic.

And Al, my brilliant green-eyed wonder of a friend, had somehow guessed all that.

“Merlin… that mad, huh?” he huffed.

I merely nodded tiredly, mentally begging him to let me be. Wonderful as he was, he did just that. Someone give the boy The Order of Merlin, First Class for best mate in the entire world. But he still wanted to know one last thing before I extinguished the light.

“No decision on the Yule Ball yet, I presume?”

I couldn’t really blame him for his curiosity – it kind of concerned him as well.

“Not yet,” I shook my head. “Perhaps tomorrow. He asked me to come again. Nox.”

“Bloody hell. Right set to give you a heart attack, is he?” he murmured into the darkness, but it wasn’t sarcastic, just kind of wistful. I exhaled slowly and gave him a sincere, full-hearted reply:

“You have _no_ idea.”

I didn’t know if he had even heard me, but a second later he grunted _“Good night, you secretive arse!”_ and I chuckled in response _“Good night, you gossiping arse!”_

And then I was finally free to be alone with my thoughts.

I sank into my mattress gratefully, and as soon as I closed my eyes, my head was flooded with images, fragrances, and magical experiences of the evening behind me, still captured in the cobwebs of my mind. It was like I hadn’t quite woke up from the sensual dream I took part in, and my consciousness refused to acknowledge that I had left tiny, candlelit room behind. I wanted to be back so desperately. I imagined I could still smell the melting wax, the exotic fragrance of paint and fresh canvas, and the seductive musk of warm skin and arousal hanging about in the air like intoxicating cloud. _Hugo_ …

The image of him seemed to be burned into the back of my eyelids, and I exhaled slowly, shakily, as the colourful images and untameable impressions of his magical presence filled me up from inside. My smitten brain wasn’t even putting up a fight. I let the memories of him take over my mind, until my chest ached with longing and my skin felt branded by the sense-memory of his touch. It was almost as if I could still feel his strong fingers caressing my cheeks, those tender lips worshipping my fluttering eyelids, and that first kiss… God, it made me yearn! My body tensed at the mere memory of his warmth, sweet mouth, and that godless scent of sex that made my balls grow heavy and my cock fill with blood. _JesusMerlin_ , he barely even touched me…

Was there to be more of that? Oh, sweet, horny Merlin, let there be more of that! I was desperate for it, desperate for his magic, desperate for more of his wild, sublime essence pouring into me, making me feel on top of the world and quenching my thirst to be special, wanted, and adored. He asked me back, had me promise, he had called me a masterpiece… that had to mean something, right? Just thinking of him had made me desperate for a wank. But I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. I wanted his warm breath on me, his low chuckle in my ear, that small gasp and that held-back moan he gave when he touched me; I wanted his strong, curious hand on my cock and _not_ my own – I wanted him. This… my body… I was for him to explore, to own and to worship in that sensual way he had, that put all my previous sexual encounters to shame. I wanted to belong to him, it was as simple as that.

So I turned onto my stomach and put my head on my arms chastely, hoping that my unruly cock would somehow get the message and the unfortunate hard-on I was sporting would eventually disappear. I must have been knackered, though, because I can’t recall much after that. But there was this vivid dream that seemed to involve a sight of fierce blue eyes, slow, sexy smile, glossy red hair, and uhm, an awful lot of naked skin that made me wake up in my own wet mess. Oh, hell, of course it did. By the look of the thoroughly humped mattress underneath me, I was lucky we were already in the dungeon and there wasn’t anywhere lower to sink, or I might have landed on some curious grindylow’s head. I just sighed heavily and spelled the mess away. Well, at least I had tried. I was a teenager; I had zero control over certain of my bodily functions when I was asleep.

As it turned out, I had next to no control left over my smitten, frenzied brain either. By the evening, I had worked myself into a full-blown panic. I had been scouting for Hugo the whole bloody day, and though I could swear I would usually see him half a dozen times on any given day, that day, he had bloody well disappeared. No sight of him. Nothing. Nada. Not a trace. Bloody hell… It would have worked miracles on my frayed nerves if I could set my eyes on him and look for some reassurance, but he was nowhere to be seen, and by the evening, I was a mess. Nothing seemed to go my way, the food tasted like dust, and all my bloody clothes needed to be immediately donated to charity! I had nothing to wear. Again! When I had barked it out to Al in my misery, he just smiled sweetly and said:

“Then wear nothing. He might actually like you best that way.”

By the time I had left the room, fuming, he was still intermittently giggling and copiously cursing while trying to fend off his own handily charmed and extremely violent Weasley sweater, which was determined to give him the beating of a lifetime with its sleeves over his head. It served him right, bloody cheek. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to get wool out of his mouth for a week!

And I found myself once again clad in the bloody school trousers – yes, a different pair, thank you very much; I had a pile of those and barely any others! I had been seriously considering giving the very same Weasley jumper another go; partly, because it had worked rather spectacularly, hadn’t it? –  but mostly because it smelled of him in a most heavenly way. But in the end I decided against it. It was rather tacky for a Malfoy to put on the same clothes two days in a row, so with a defeated sigh, I slipped into a rather too classy silver-coloured button-down, and immediately felt ridiculously overdressed for strolling around the castle. Oh, bloody hell, why was I always out of options?! Oh, I suppose it was still better than Al’s cheeky proposal… _right? Right??_

I nearly strained my neck when I kept looking around the Great Hall during dinner to spot him, but he was nowhere to be seen, and my heart sank a bit further into the pit of insecurity. He wasn’t trying to dodge me, was he? I barely managed to take a few pitiful bites, mostly trying to keep myself occupied to make the time fly by faster, but the meal dragged on and on until I thought I was caught in a time loop and it would never end! But finally, it was time.

My legs were made of pure jelly when I climbed the tower once again. I was welcomed by the roaring dragon and I gave room to the painted McGonagall just like the night before, and with every step I took, I felt more like I was coming home. In the end, I was rushing up the stairs like a child chasing Christmas because I was all too desperate to be on the other side of that door. Would it open for me once again?

For a full minute I just stood there, in front of it, with a raised hand ready to knock on the wood and my heart racing madly. I told myself I had to calm down, I couldn’t go in like that. But finally I could no longer delay.

I rapped on the door. Once, tw – oh… It opened just fine. Merlin, here we go… I crossed the threshold and took a step into my own personal Heaven.

 _Oh_ … It was just as spellbinding as I remembered from the night before. The warm atmosphere made by a small ocean of candles, the scattered paint, the abandoned scrolls, the enchanted winter night ceiling, the beautiful soundless peace and serenity, the portrait… oh… the portrait. It stood in the middle of the room on a wooden easel, like it was meant to be an altar. I approached it on wobbly feet, almost dizzy with a sudden rush of blood to my head. I somehow knew this was going to be the moment of truth. Subconsciously, I saw a number or sketches strewn on the floor, and I was afraid to look at them because I just knew they would all be of me.

Finally, I came to stand before it – and it took my breath away. The portrait of me,  in all truth, was breathtaking. My face was turned a bit to the side, as if I was captured looking at someone who caught my fancy. My eyes, all dreamy and bright, seemed nearly translucent, like a pair of magical pools made of glittering silver and the palest shade of blue, and – Merlin, were my eyelashes really that silken-looking and long?! I never knew... A glossy mop of my trademark silver-blond hair framing my narrow face appeared to glow softly, as if it was made of something as precious as moonlight, and there was a sublime tenderness to my mouth that made me look almost boyish, as if I was about to smile sweetly in some secret worship.

And then there was that one detail that made me hold my breath and wonder if I was ever really seen like this: the tiniest hint of pink to my cheeks might have looked innocent enough, but to me it spoke clearly of one thing only – arousal. For all my winter colours – the grey and blue, the magnificent silver, the paleness of my eyebrows and my thick golden eyelashes – it was that tinge of pink that made me look shyly seductive, and so incredibly alive that I wasn’t entirely sure if my portrait wasn’t breathing. He had clearly painted me looking at someone longingly, openly, the way I would never like to be caught in real life because it was… oh, my God, it was just too revealing, to honest, too vulnerable, wasn’t it? Merlin, was that how he saw me looking at him?!

“Yes,” he spoke behind me softly, and at the sound of his warm voice my heart went positively wild. But how…? He couldn’t possibly know what I was thinking! I turned around with my heart beating madly in my throat, and just melted into a bloody pool of yearning and arousal when I looked into the smiling blue eyes. It took me a moment to notice that he was shirtless again, and yet another to be hit by that tantalising, sensual fragrance of him that made my knees soft. Oh, bloodyfuckinghell… The way he was looking at me didn’t help one bit, either. Goddammit, that boy was made of sex!

“Yes…?” I whispered, breathless and almost dizzy from some savage feeling I couldn’t name.

“Yes,” he nodded thoughtfully. “This is the way I see you. Yes, you really are that beautiful. Yes, I’d like to do more of you.”

“Do… more of me?” I gulped, drowning in so many dirty, wrong thoughts it was a pure wonder I didn’t jump the boy.

“Yes… do you… paint you, you know?” he blinked innocently, but those predatory, brilliant eyes said everything he wouldn’t.

“All right, then,” I said weakly. “I supposed I said – ”

“ _Anything_ ,” he reminded me, and I just nodded because Hugo’s anything really could have been exactly that: any bloody thing.

“Come then,” he took my hand so casually, as if he knew there wasn’t anyone else I’d rather give it to. This time there was no going around the room. My sofa was still there, waiting for me, and when he nodded approvingly, I sank into it slowly, trying very hard not to think of what happened in that exact spot the night before, not to… uhm, spill anything accidentally. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but when I relaxed into the sofa, it appeared to be a bit larger than a day before, and Merlin’s golden shoelaces, was it comfortable! I could totally imagine lying flat on my back, stretching my muscles like a purring kitten, and pulling Hugo’s magnificent body on top of me. Ohbloodyhell, I did not just think that! I seriously didn’t need those thoughts! Shush, dirty thoughts, shush! As if I wasn’t in deep enough in that sweet, decadent hell of arousal as it was…

He was still standing near me, with that dreamy, distant look in his eyes that I slowly came to appreciate. From my sitting position, he seemed wonderfully tall, with that muscled, naked torso so ridiculously alluring that it took all my willpower to stop my trembling fingers from touching that creamy warm skin, emitting its unique, captivating scent that was turning my brain into a pile of goo. I tried to focus on counting the sexiest clusters of freckles in the universe scattered all over that symphony of a body, but that seemed to be the wrong way to go as well. My incorrigible teenage mind immediately provided me with very vivid images of slowly collecting the little specks of gold off his skin with my tongue, and I could barely hold back a helpless mewl. I should have known that my dignity would never survive another encounter with the redheaded god that was Hugo Weasley.

He absent-mindedly rubbed the knuckles of my hand, still resting in his palm, as if he had somehow forgotten to give it back and I certainly had no intention of reminding him. But his dazzling eyes suddenly focused and caught mine, as if he had somehow found a place to come back to. My very skin seemed to prickle and come to life when he held my eyes captive, and if someone had told me I was on fire, it wouldn’t have been hard to believe. It certainly felt that way.

“Ready?” he asked with that quiet, determined voice of his, and all I could do was nod silently.

“Nox,” he spoke softly, and with that one spell, all the candles in the room were extinguished, the only light in the room coming from the full moon illuminating the magical night with its silver glow. Then he slowly sank onto his knees next to me, and I... I forgot how to breathe.

“You can close your eyes again if you wish,” he whispered, but I shook my head faintly. I didn’t want to miss a single moment of this. I would see as much of my shadow-cast lover as I could; I would breathe in his wonderful intoxicating fragrance until it filled me from the inside out and melted its way into that place where I always felt a bit lonely and cold. I would sink into his warmth without ever looking back and be ruined by his tenderness if I had to. The one thing I wasn’t ready to do was to let him go. I wouldn’t even risk it.

His hands reached out to me first, the long fingers pushing a loose lock of my hair behind my ear lovingly, and this time I had no reservation about rubbing my cheek against it, hungry for his touch as I was. Was it just my imagination, or did his breath hitch? His fingers certainly trembled slightly as they took a gentle journey across my mouth, and I let them spread my lips apart just a bit before I went on boldly and kissed them. Just the chaste, worshiping kiss of a boy in love with his master, but it was enough. The warm digits stilled on my mouth, as if giving me a chance, and it wasn’t one I was willing to pass up. I sucked them in one by one, and this time there was no mistaking his muffled moan of pleasure. For some reason, he was letting me play tonight, and _ohbloodyhell_ , I was going to make the most of it. The darkness was making me infinitely bolder, and perhaps I would never get another chance.

“How do you want to do that?” he leaned into me, the sweet breath of his whisper teasing my ear and making my toes curl. “Naked, or – ?”

“ _Jesusfuck_ , Hugo…”

A desperate, gasped yelp escaped me before I could help it, and my cock pressed against the fabric of my trousers with such sudden force, I felt as if I was about to drown in mad, insatiable desire. But my obvious lack of self-restraint seemed to only fuel the devil in him.

“I could let you keep your clothes on…” he murmured, and the way he peppered my neck with tiny, delightful kisses was driving me absolutely spare. “… but I can’t guarantee the right effect. I’d rather feel your skin under my hand… under my mouth… my mouth is _so_ much more sensitive… it lets me pick up the delicate sensations my hands never could… I could…”

“Anything... naked… please…”

I was whimpering already, my arousal so acute that I was ready to fuck thin air, if only my cock could be mercifully released.

“Your choice, blondie,” he murmured, and his tongue slowly licked a thorough goodbye to the tender skin above my pulse point, making me hate him just a little. I desperately wanted more of him, not less! But he was already sitting back on his heels, and he spoke in that low, masterful voice that melted my bones.

“You need to remember to be still. Don’t forget, you’re a work of art in progress, and I’m the artist… not you. So no touching yourself, lovely.”

What?! He wasn’t _serious_ , was he?! I couldn’t keep my mouth shut; no Malfoy would!

“Not fair! Merlin, Hugh…”

But he tilted his head to the side gently, smiled with that devilish mirth I couldn’t resist, and I capitulated immediately and spectacularly.

“All right, then,” I pouted, but I quit, because his soft chuckle told me he found it way too entertaining.

“ _Unless_ …” he offered, and I fell for it like the goo-brained fool I was.

“Unless…?”I repeated eagerly.

“Unless I decide to paint you that way,” he said sweetly.

“ _OhJesusfuckChrist_ , Hugh… You’re not bloody serious, are you?” I had to literally swallow my drool. The thought of being painted with my hands all over myself was… it was… oh, how _wrong_. Only, my silly cock didn’t seem to think so. The way it jumped forward, it was obvious it was more than willing to second that bad, terrible thought. Dumb, evil thing, my cock. You’d never guess it came with a head!

“All right…” I agreed feebly. “No touching. Only… I don’t know if I can help myself,” I blurted out miserably. In all honesty, I couldn’t imagine how I could keep from freeing my cock at some point during this mad game, and surrender to wanking until my fucking head shot off my shoulders.

“Oh…” he said softly, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Then I suppose... we have two options. You could always show me how you do it… how you like it… take some pressure off yourself… for later.”

“ _Merlinfuck_ , Hugh,” I whimpered because the very thought nearly made me shoot my load. “Don’t even… you can’t say that… I’m too… _ohbloodyhell…_ what’s the other option, then?”

“Or I could help you… not to touch yourself.”

“Oh, my – you’re… you can’t…” I said in a shaky stutter, because _that_ idea… oh, god, _that very idea_ …

He slowly sunk his fist into my hair and pulled just hard enough to tilt my head backwards. The noise that escaped me was out of this world. I guess I was into this… domineering thing as well. The amount of new things I was learning about my perverted self was too damn high! My whole body tensed at his actions, and I was practically offering myself to him.

“Anything,” he murmured into my ear, sending shivers down my spine with his dark voice. “You said _anything_. Any fucking thing I want. And you can’t deny how much you want it as well. Your cock has leaked a fucking lake since I’ve brought it up. You’re my piece of art for tonight, Scorpius. _I need to own you_.”

“Yes, god, yes… _ohbloodyhell_ , please, yes…”

He only had to tell me he wanted to own me, and I fell apart at the seams. There was no more room for lies and pretence; I needed this too damn much. I bloody well _craved_ it. I offered my wrists to him willingly, and he pulled them upwards, his spellbinding eyes still focused on my face, like a snake hypnotising its prey to stillness. I couldn’t hold back a mewl when he ran his finger across the tender flesh of my wrist, whispering a charm to form restraints around them. I fucking _loved_ being at his mercy; I loved it too damn much. When it was done, he brought my tied wrists to his mouth, and ran his tongue lightly along the restraints, electrifying every last bit of my skin. It was so incredibly erotic, I could barely take it. Then he placed my arms carefully above my head and leaned down to my face.

“Thank you,” he whispered into my ear softly. “Thank you for letting me do this. I’ve been thinking about this… about you… about painting you with my tongue the whole bloody endless day. Please, don’t be mad at me. I know I’m selfish when it comes to my art, but I’d never hurt you. I just want to _feel_ you. I want to feel those things you keep from everyone else. Your tenderness, your beauty that comes from that dreamy, secret place buried deep inside of you that has kept you pure. You’re so very beautiful… The scent of your innocence is making my head spin. I can smell it on your skin, and now I’m going to taste it. You feel… and taste... like all the colours of the universe to me, Scorpius Malfoy. You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Merlin Almighty… I just had an epiphany. _I was in love._ Like, for real. And I wasn't in love with just anyone. I was in love, head over bloody heels, and all the way bonkers about the most intricate, magical creature I was ever likely to come across. I was never in love before, but now… now I was completely overwhelmed. There seemed to be a deep ache somewhere inside of me that needed to get out, and my heart was literally bursting for me to say it, to recognise it and bloody well shout it out from the rooftops. _I love you._ I love you, Hugo.

If only he’d let me. If only he’d want me to. I wasn’t even sure he’d want to hear it.

But, intuitive creature that he was, he must have felt how very on edge I was. His long fingers caressed my cheek gently, as if he was telling me not to be upset, that comfort was just around the corner. Then he looked deep into my eyes and whispered as if letting me in on a precious secret:

“I want you, my silver-eyed masterpiece.”

He finally kissed me full on the lips, and the whole terribly bottled up feeling of all that bloody love which now defined me found release in one painful wail that came out suspiciously like a sob. Oh, god… _He wanted me._ He said he wanted me. He was telling me that he was here for me… to take, to own, to love - perhaps only for the night, but I wasn’t willing to think about that. So I finally closed my eyes and let myself have this. The feeling of his tongue running across the tender flesh of my lips was incredible, and I sucked it into my mouth greedily, not giving a damn if my wanton, needy moans made me sound like a depraved whore, dying for it. I loved his tongue; I loved the feeling of it plundering my mouth until I could barely breathe, and… _ohbloodyhell_ , I loved having no choice.  I sucked on that tongue like I was born to do just that, until my mouth ached and my body arched backwards like an offering. I just knew I could make myself come like this if I kept at it.

He finally pulled away, breathless, tousled, and beyond beautiful. The moonlight reflecting in his eyes made them look lit up like ice-blue stars, and with that tender mouth, swollen from my kisses, he was to die for. Every one of my reservations melted like snow in the summer sun. I could no longer hold back.

“I love you,” I blurted out in a shaky voice, because I had to. I just _had to_. There was no longer any way for me to keep it to myself, because my stupid heart would surely burst.

“I’m in love with you,” I clarified in a choked, small voice, because I didn’t want there to be any doubt about that. I had stubbornly refused to think about the painful possibility that he might reject me. I was prepared to take a risk. He simply had to know.

But those blue diamond eyes lit up like they had caught fire, and he smiled such a stunning smile that it made my poor heart soar all the way to the sky.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said quietly, running his fingers down my cheek gently. Oh god, was he saying what I hoped he was saying? Or was I just so desperate that I was willing to hear something that wasn’t there?

“Because I want no one but you,” he said simply, with those incredible bright eyes focused on my face as if he wanted me to see the truth.

“Hugh…”

I actually sobbed that out. Merlin… did he really?!

And there was that devilish, radiant smile again, and he told me with that lethal, sweet honesty that was going to be the death of me one day: “And I’m willing to prove it.”

“You… _are_?” I still wasn’t too coherent; I barely choked that out, and I blinked furiously to stop my silly, hysterical tears of utter joy from escaping me.

“Oh, yes,” he nodded, and then his fingers moved to slowly undo the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons on my ridiculously expensive shirt. My heart went positively wild in the proximity of his warm fingers.

“I’m going to undress you…” he said quietly, but there was tension in his voice that was setting my nerves on fire. “I’m going to explore every inch of your skin with my hands first… and my mouth next…”

His fingers ran across my exposed nipples lightly, and a frantic whimpered _“_... _please…”_ was all I dared. It was all I needed. His mouth came down on my rosy peaks like a storm, and the way he worshipped them, sloppily, eagerly, with utter delight and just to the edge of pain, transformed them into shiny, wet pebbles, begging to be lavished in attention.

“So needy,” he said softly when I wouldn’t stop begging for his godless mouth to return and give me more. His tongue slowly painted a wet collar around my neck, and when he bit me into that sweet spot at the crook of my neck, I couldn’t hold back a needy scream.

“Merlin, you’re gorgeous when you’re gagging for it, Scorpius,” he whispered feverishly. “I’m going to have to paint you like this, my debauched blond angel… just like this… tense, needy, almost at the point of bursting… with those silver eyes of yours absolutely glazed over with lust and love… You’re too beautiful… I need to remember you like this, I need to make you immortal… just the way you are right now…”

“Jesus, Hugh…” My adventurous, sensual redhead was making a religious man out of me. Every touch of those warm, rough fingers, followed by the insanely tender mouth made my blood pulse madly through my veins, and my skin, always so marble-pale and cold, had turned pink everywhere he touched it.

With his mouth eager to mark me from that sensitive spot behind my ear all the way down to my clavicles, he pushed the silken shirt off my shoulders as far as it would go – but then took another look at my tied arms, smiled like a proper barbarian, and simply tore it to rags to free me of it.

“Better,” he grunted, and I must say that this atrocious act did absolutely fucking nothing to make my cock less interested in the gorgeous brute who performed it. If anything, the evil thing fell positively in love with this savage menace.

Then he straddled me, and when those muscled thighs closed around my body, I felt so deliciously trapped I thought I would perish of it. Merlin, I never knew I had such a submissive streak, but then again, I wasn’t very likely to learn it from all the delicate girls I used to date, was I? But the next thing I knew, a keening sound of utter need escaped me, and my brain finally switched off whatever feeble functions it was still struggling to perform: our heavy, trapped bulges had lined up, I honest-to-God thought that was it. There was no way in Heaven and Hell I wasn’t going to come with that maddening, blissful pressure on my cock.

“Not yet,” he warned me with a hungry, dark smile that made him look every bit of the predator he was. “I want to… and god help me, tonight I will… but not yet. I need more first… more of you… more for my painting. You need to be a good boy now, and let me have it.”

And all I could do was whimper.

“Baby… please… hurry up.”

Oh, Merlin’s stiff balls, was I pathetic begging like this, or what?! But at that moment, I didn’t give a drunken chimp’s pyjamas how desperate I looked. I just wanted to have more, feel it there, at the center of my need, and fuck fuck fuck… until I was all spent, boneless, and soft as a rag doll. In short, I needed to come. _God, how I wanted to come_... My balls felt like they were the size of oranges, and they were just fucking solid with buzzing pressure. I had to… soon. _JesusMerlin_ , yes… soon.

But he had already leaned across me and brought my wrists to his mouth.

“I might have a bit of obsession with you being tied up like this,” he confessed sweetly, and the need to come had turned into a bloody emergency.  The way he slowly, thoroughly licked the tender skin of my wrists felt as if they had a direct line to my cock. His skilled, precious tongue kept finding a way under the bonds, and I whimpered the entire time. This was… _ohsweetMerlin_ … this was madly arousing. He spread open the palms of my hands and devoutly licked every life line and every patch of skin between my fingers. The tips of my fingers literally buzzed with the uttermost need to feel him, touch him, and hold on to him – and it didn’t take him long to notice.

“This?” he asked softly, and he sucked first one… and then another… and each and every one of my fingers into his decadent, soft mouth, making me cry out – and incidentally giving birth to a fetish I haven’t been able to shake since. I was reduced to incoherent babbling.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck, please… Don’t… please, baby… please don’t, or I’ll come all over you… and God won’t be able to stop me…”

He had finally pushed me too close to the limits of my endurance – and somehow he sensed it.

“Enough?” he asked softly, and I snapped at that one word like it was my safety belt:

“Enough! Yes… please… enough.”

He just nodded silently, and let his adept, curious fingers take a gentle tour down my body. They rubbed against the ridiculous bulge in my trousers carefully… and then they strayed over to his own, pressed against it. I don’t know which made me moan louder.

“I never did it…” he whispered, sounding almost boyish, and beautifully excited. “I never touched anyone other than myself. I never…” He looked me in the eye with all that devotion that came so easily to him, and said quietly: “I never let anyone touch me. You would be my first in every way, Scorpius.”

“I…”

Fuck me if I knew what to say. The thought was too mind-boggling to begin with, and my mind, long ago turned into a useless pile of goo, wasn’t helping. His sincerity was incredibly endearing… and my cock found it so fucking sexy it seemed ready to stage a full-on rebellion and jump into his hand by itself. But perhaps… it wouldn’t have to. His fingers moved in to undo the world’s most frustrating buttons, and finally my bursting shaft was allowed to spring free in all its desperate, swollen glory. I didn’t think I’ve ever seen it so purple and hard.

“Merlin…” he exhaled slowly, and his eyes locked onto my proud prick, leaking madly. He looked in awe, and I could barely keep down an excited, very unmanly whimper as my heart swelled at the sight of his worshipping gaze. Oh, why wasn’t I allowed to touch myself?! I could have shot my load three feet high at the sight of Hugo Weasley staring at my cock in hungry adoration. But then that redheaded demon slowly ran his curious fingers across the leaking tip of my prick, collecting the pearly liquid and promptly bringing it to his mouth – and if you’ve never seen Hugo Weasley’s kiss-bruised lips decadently glistening with your come, you and your treasures have nothing on me. No fucking thing in this world could be more precious. I reckon when I’m 190, I’ll still be furiously wanking to this memory.

But then my breath hitched madly because his fingers moved again, this time to free himself… and _ohfuckinggodhelp_ me… and kill me on the spot if I’d ever seen anything more gorgeous than Hugo’s cock. That beast… needed a church of its own. I wanted to lick its crown of liquid crystals so badly I was drooling. I just _knew_ I was destined to shoot my load the first time he ran his fingers down this magnificent monster's length. Seriously, that super impressive thing was the king of cocks. James could throw his fucking magazines into the bonfire. They were a joke. If only I could have a piece of it… It was making me scream in frustration that I wouldn’t be able to. Or so I thought.

“Would you like to… touch me… while I touch you?” my wonderful redhead offered next, sounding just on the right side of shy and daring – and I nearly screamed out my answer.

_“OhfuckingMerlin, yesss!”_

God, yes, yes, that was so much more than I could have hoped for mere moments ago!

“Oh, lovely,” he said quietly, with that dark, sensual, sex-laced voice of his. “Because I need you to.”

Oh, he _so_ needn’t ask twice! As soon as my bonds fell apart, I pulled him down onto me like the world was ending in the next five minutes. The sensation that flooded me when our cocks rubbed against each other was so earth-shattering, it made me feel like the world was indeed crumbling around me. There was no time for words, this was all the way too urgent. The sensitive, needy, naked flesh mashed together in the cage of our hands was a fucking symphony, an ode to sex, a fucking need-to-happen-now-now-now struggle for perfect bliss that was making us both yelp loudly and rut against each other. It wasn’t the prettiest of sights, it was a proper debauchery, fucking messy and brutal, yet so unbelievably good and right that I happily chanted his name and every bloody expletive I could think of like the lovesick fool that I was. We were like two young animals in love.

At some point, he crushed his mouth to mine, drawing blood with those perfect white teeth, and he hissed: “I’m taking you to the Yule Ball… so you can have your crystal chandeliers and fancy robes… and I’m fucking you there. Because you’re worth it to me. And because I think… I think I might love you.”

I came so hard I saw stars. And my redheaded god was right there to meet me in my decadent, heavenly bliss.


	5. A Yule Ball to remember

“But are you _sure_ he's coming?!”

It must have been an umpteenth time that I had asked Rose that question, and I knew I annoyed her – blast, I annoyed myself! – but I couldn’t bloody well help it, could I?! I was so insanely nervous I was ready to jump out of my skin, and I was willing to bet my inheritance and my left testicle that  something was going to interfere with the Yule Ball date I had with Hugo. Knowing my luck, I’d still be standing here seven generations later, serving as a living warning to the kiddies that being a lovesick fool was a precarious business.

“I told you seven million times and I’m telling you again, you blond basket case – he’s coming! I saw him getting ready with my own eyes. Will you relax already?!” Rose barked at me, sounding miffed enough to hex me, so I wisely shut my mouth. Oh, I knew she wasn’t lying – why would she be? – but she could still be wrong! We’ve been standing here in front of the Great Hall, dressed to the nines, for a good while – actually, for a total of… _How has it only been five minutes?!_ I feel like I’ve grown roots long enough to reach the Forbidden Forest already; my Tempus charm must be utter crap!!

Anyway, while the entire world was buzzing around us in happy excitement and more people flooded down the various staircases every second, Hugo was still nowhere to be seen. Oh, Merlin’s huge cock, what if the notoriously antisocial redhead didn’t show up?! If this was going to be a calamity, I’d rather blame it on anything else – like a Scottish tornado picking up Hogwarts from the ground and giving us all a spin, or a mountain troll crashing the party – honestly, anything would have been preferable to Hugo abandoning me at the alt-… Jesus, I meant at the _entrance_ , not at the altar – oh, you scrambled spaghetti-brain, what are you up to?!

Giving up the effort of using the bloody useless thing for further brooding, miserable contemplation, and doom-scenarios, I nervously smoothed down my clothes and tried to work up the courage to ask Rose again if she was positively, one hundred percent sure her brother was coming to the ball with me. I would be utterly wrecked if he decided to miss it. It took me a good part of the day to get ready – every hair had to be just right, the sapphire buttons polished carefully, and my clothes absolutely impeccable – so I could truly be good enough. I glanced at Rose standing by my side and jealously determined I would never be quite that beautiful – honestly, in her emerald green dress and with that cloud of fiery hair loose behind her, she was like a mythological Queen of Fire and Water – but at least Rose was the one person that wasn’t competition. After last night… I couldn’t handle competition.

He didn’t let me go immediately last night. How could he when I felt as if every last one of my bones had melted, and I was nearly sobbing with release? He held me instead, mess that I was, and the time I spent in his embrace, quietly, deeply immersed in his personal space with his fingers gently threading through my hair, was something I would lock in my heart for the dark, lonely, loveless days, and treasure forever. I would be hard pressed to tell which I loved better – our decadent, mind-blowing love-making session, or the quiet bliss that came afterwards and filled me to the brim with happiness and serenity. I hated him a little when he finally whispered into my ear that it was time for me to go. How could he let me go so easy?

“I don’t want to,” I told him stubbornly. “Why can’t I stay here?”

“Because I won’t be staying here either,” he told me. “With all the candles blown out, this place will turn into a freezer. And I need my rest. You see, I had foolishly promised a certain boy that I would escort him to the Yule Ball – and since I didn’t plan on going, last-minute arrangements will have to be made,” he told me with that sweet, sexy smile – and I surrendered promptly. I wasn’t made to oppose Hugo Weasley.

He cleaned us with one of those wordless spells he was so good at, and then handed me something he had picked up from the ground.

“Here,” he said, and I saw he was holding his own Weasley jumper, with a ridiculous, endearing H at the middle. “It’s only fair, since I wrecked your shirt,” he said somewhat sheepishly, and it hit me all over again how badly I had fallen for him. I practically pulled the ugly, precious thing out of his hands for fear he might change his mind. I got to be immersed in that loveliness that was Hugo Weasley’s scent, and I just knew I would sleep in it that night. Leaving was just a little easier that way. But I found immense comfort in the fact that he found it hard as well. I was almost on the corridor already when he pulled me back again and surprised me with a mind-boggling kiss that made me forget I was supposed to leave.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, after the ball,” he promised me comfortingly. “The sketch of for your painting should at least be ready – and I’m sure we can… find things to do,” he chuckled softly and kissed me on that sacred spot under my ear that always nearly gave me a religious experience. So I went, successfully dodging all the professors’ patrols that might have been scheduled a bit loosely in this arctic weather, and I was happy to find Al sleeping already. I was knackered and not willing to discuss my treasured memories of my time with Hugo with anyone.

I woke up in the morning to an all-around general frenzy regarding the Yule Ball, and no Al. He only left me a message not to eat the blue cheese at breakfast, because Parkinson-Nott vomited after she had a piece (but it could have been her nerves), and that he would see me later. And when I finally made it to the Great Hall, I stepped into a proper nuthouse, nearing exploding point from all the excited, hormone-fuelled teenagers expecting their first grand ball. And of course it had rubbed off on me. I was more of a nervous wreck with every passing moment, and it didn’t exactly do wonders for my frayed nerves that, once again, I hadn’t seen Hugo the whole day. In the end, I was desperate enough to approach Rose at the lunch break and ask her about him, but she said that she only saw him come to breakfast very early in the morning, but then he had _“vanished without a trace”_ – her words, not mine. So, you tell me – how could I not be nervous after that?!

Even when Rose met me in front of the entrance to the glamorously decorated Great Hall and told me that she had seen her brother at last and that he was getting ready, it didn’t quite settle my nerves. What if he had changed his mind? Did a runner, even? _Ohbloodyhell_ , I really shouldn’t have been thinking those thoughts!

“Rose, are you positively…”

“Merlin have mercy, here they come at last!”

I turned around so fast I nearly snapped my neck and put myself out of my misery. Coming down the staircase leading from the Gryffindor quarters was a small army of Gryffindor boys, including Rose’s dates, the Scamander twins, but I only had eyes for one boy, towering above all of them: Hugo. He came. And he was… oh, god, he was _stunning_. Like, seriously _spectacular._

He was dressed to the nines, just the way I was – but he had added his own personal touch to his evening attire that no other boy could pull off. The black dress robes, fitting like second skin, were made of soft leather polished to a shine, with silver ornamented lining down the length and all around the open Russian collar, which made him look incredibly classy and sexy. The black silken vest over the anthracite shirt accentuated his narrow waist and broad shoulders, and instead of a bow, there was a shiny black-and-silver brooch of a coiled dragon linking the two sides of his shirt together. He even had white leather gloves… _fingerless_ gloves. Jesus… like I said: only Hugo. He exuded style, confidence, and… oh, god, pure undistilled sex. My knees had turned into jelly only looking at him. But his attire was only half the story.

For the night, the fiery waterfall of his hair was trapped in an intricate plait that looked as if he had spent hours making it, but a few loose strands were left out and they fell softly along the creamy, freckled face, bringing out those incredible eyes like blue flames. He was so beautiful I had literally stopped thinking, and I just stood there, rooted to the ground, with my heart beating madly, filled to the brim with admiration, stunned speechless. Ladies and gentlemen: _my date._ My Hugo.

Every girl in the radius of ten meters, and even most of the boys openly gawped at him, as if they weren’t entirely sure this was the same dreamy boy they were used to seeing strolling around the castle with colourful smudges on his cheeks and a forgotten paintbrush behind his ear. Tonight, Hugo Weasley was going in for the kill – and I was the lucky prey. I had to stop myself from literally squealing in excitement!

And because under all those fancy, stylish clothes, this was still Hugo, he made no secret of his feelings. He walked past Rose, gaping like the rest of them, and straight on to me.

“Hey, baby!” he murmured, and when my melted brain barely managed a feeble _“Hugo…”_ , he smiled that wild, sexy smile of his – and kissed me breathless. Seriously – breathless. Among the shocked gasps of the entire school. I would have collapsed like an empty sack of beans if his arms hadn’t crawled behind my waist and held me together. There was no chance in hell I could keep the _problem_ he gave me concealed. Seven hells… You know what – to hell with it. I was going to strut around with it proudly!

“Merlin, Hugh… he’s not on the menu, you know!” Rose murmured, but judging by the sound of her voice, she was far from displeased, just wonderfully entertained. But I could have hexed her when he slowly let go of me, and I couldn’t hold back a pathetic little whimper. Why did she _always_ have to ruin all the fun?! But he smoothed out my bow, kissed my brow with a smile, and quietly whispered:

“Later, yeah?”

Oh, yessss! Try getting rid of me, you redheaded tease!

“So, uhm, why aren’t we going in?” one of the Scamander twins wanted to know, but Rose merely looked at him imperiously.

“Because we’re still waiting for Lily and Al, aren’t we? I certainly don’t wish to appear desperate, you know? I’m not Parkinson-Nott! I think she’s been sitting in there since lunch!

“Hello, I’m here. Sorry I’m late, I just… I couldn’t find…”

I turned around to see Lily Luna Potter, lovely in her long, sky-blue dancing dress, staring at Hugo and I – or to be more precise, at our intertwined fingers. Her lips trembled, and it looked like her pretty brown eyes were going to drown in tears.

“Oh…” she said in a quiet lost voice. “I… I didn’t know…”

“Hey, Lils, you made it,” Rose hugged her cousin warmly. “Look, our dates are already here. We only have to wait for Al, and then…”

“I don’t know about that,” Lily whispered in a tiny voice, sounding incredibly sad. “I mean… it was awfully nice of you to offer and I am very thankful, but none of them really asked me, and… oh, I don’t know…”

She lowered her eyes, and it was heartbreaking to see her face, usually so sweet and cheerful, looking so pale and miserable.

I took one look at Hugo. _One._ And he nodded slowly, and gave me that breathtaking smile of his. Cupping my face into his hands, he looked me straight in the eye, and said quietly:

“I would be _incredibly_ proud of you.”

He kissed my brow lightly, and I closed my eyes to get what little I could, knowing that there would always be later to have more. Then I turned around to prove to Hugo Weasley that I was indeed worthy of his heart.

“Lily Luna Potter, would you do me the immense honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?”

The chatter around us died as if someone had put a big lid over it. Everyone seemed to stare at us with bated breath, waiting for Lily’s answer. The people of Hogwarts loved their drama.

“But… but… he’s… you are…”

She couldn’t even form a sentence – I had stunned her to silence. But her eyes… oh, her pretty brown eyes lit up in hope like a pair of stars, and I knew I was doing the right thing.

“Darling Lily, I think it is safe to say that my father would see fit to murder me in my sleep if he found out I wasted those ridiculously expensive dancing lessons to dance with this brute,” I raised my Malfoyian pointy nose high.  “No matter how much I love him,” I murmured to myself, but she heard me, and a sweet chime of a giggle escaped her.

“You really don’t have to,” she said under her breath, but her eyes looked so bright and hopeful that I didn’t even find it hard to say the words:

“But I want to. Someone once told me that everyone going to the Yule Ball should feel happy, proud and admired. And I am quite determined to make you so, Lily. Hugo here won’t be any less of all those things if I go with you.”

“Damn right, Lils,” my wonderful redhead with a heart of gold chipped in – and then it was up to her.

“All right,” she breathed shakily after what felt like a suspenseful moment of absolute silence, and the whole corridor erupted in cheers.

“A bloody nice thing to do, Scorp… a bloody nice one,” Rose hugged me fiercely, and I kind of felt all smug and damn proud of myself.

“But what about you, Hugh?” Lily worried immediately, the gentle, caring soul that she was. “You dressed up all nice and smart – Merlin, you look handsome! Won’t that be awfully hard on you?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, Princess,” my redhead smiled one his priceless, lazy smiles. “I’m told Rose got greedy – as usual – and now has a date to spare. Does anyone of you two prefer boys, by any chance?” he looked at the Scamanders, and a surge of unbelievable jealousy flooded me instantly. I hadn’t planned for that!

“Nope,” they said as one, but then one of them took another good look at Hugo, and sighed: “Sadly. However, I might be…”

“Oh, good,” Hugo said quickly, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “Or my boyfriend might skin me alive.”

That bloody… _Weasley_ boy! Oh, grrrr! I can’t believe him! He nearly gave me a heart attack!

“What did I miss?”

Al, at last. Dressed up like royalty to match his attitude, with a big, sunny smile on his handsome face.

“Oh, nothing much,” Rose said lightly. “Scorpius here hooked up with Hugo –”

“You did?! Oh, that’s brilliant, mate,” Al offered me his fist for a fist-bump, and I remembered why I adored that green-eyed monster: he, like every Potter in existence, had a heart of gold.

“Yes, but that’s not all,” Rose said dryly. “This blond dolt put Hugo’s boyfriend status on hold to take your sister to the Yule Ball.”

“You… _what_?!”

“I don’t mind,” Hugo said quickly. “And before you start flailing those gorilla arms of yours around, threatening me with your Potter-ness – Lily is 16, more than capable of taking care of herself, and she knows about us. It was her choice in the end.”

“Are you all right with this, Lils? Like, _for real_?” Al didn’t forget to shoot me a dark look of doom before he turned to his sister with genuine concern in his eyes.

“Absolutely!” the pretty redheaded princess confirmed, with a lovely smile that made her look glowing. “I get to dance with the most handsome boy in Hogwarts – what is there to fret about?”

“Second most handsome,” Al mumbled grudgingly.

“Find yourself a place in the queue, cousin dearest,” Hugo chimed in casually with his devilish grin. “I dare say I’m pretty fucking hot myself.”

Bloody hell – who would have guessed?! Looks like Hugo’s self-confidence could give Al’s cockiness a run for its money! Oh, he was totally gorgeous, wasn’t he?! And I couldn’t wait until I got myself a piece of that confident attitude, yield to the masterful fingers and… oh, fuck, I really was stupid, wasn’t I?! At this rate I’m going to pierce poor Lily with my unruly cock! I really needed to get my act together, it wouldn’t do to embarrass a lady! I only had to hold on for a few more hours. The Yule Ball was the only thing between me and the night full of bliss I was promised. Talking of the ball…

“Where is your date?” I asked Al eagerly, because in all honesty, I was dying to know. “Are you bringing a boy or a girl?”

“A… female, actually,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was never really that interested in boys. It was mostly experimenting… but the gist of it was to get _you_ interested in boys.”

Wait, what?! What?!

I must have worn my shell-shocked expression on my face, because he just smiled that radiant, decadent Potter smile that told me he was utterly enjoying this, and explained casually:

“Scorp, mate, you’re so bloody competitive that you were practically a sitting duck. And so deeply in the closet you didn’t even know there was a closet. Hell, I’m surprised that when you came out, it wasn’t in bloody Narnia!”

Honestly, those Muggle references of his… and in a serious moment like this!

“So, you, dating everyone – that was about _me_?!” I asked weakly barely able to believe the grand-master level of his cunningness. Honestly, I wasn’t even angry, that was amazing!

“Yup,” he confirmed merrily. “Couldn’t let you mope around the wrong _gender_ forever, could I?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, do you two mind being all nice and chummy on your own time?!” Rose interrupted him before I could reply. “I’d like to go in now, or we’ll miss the beginning. Albus, if your date fell through…”

“Good evening, everyone. I trust I am still on time, yes?”

Everybody turned around at the sound of that voice. _Everybody_. And… _bloody hell_. Bloody hell, Al, you brilliant, lucky bastard!

Madame Gabrielle Delacour had been invited from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts for one term as an exchange professor of the newly introduced Social Integration and Cultural Diversity class, and she was the stuff the dreams were made of. One quarter Veela, the classy and incredibly poised petite blonde had been an endless source for every male fantasy and female envy ever since – and it really should have been my first clue that I was gay and beyond when I was not daydreaming about her. Some two decades older than us, she was in her prime, and her airy, ethereal appearance alone was enough to stun an entire class of rowdy teenagers into silence. And it appeared that tonight she was to be Al’s date. Bloody hell… No wonder Al seemed to be hovering a foot above the ground – I couldn’t even blame the lucky sod! The crystal-blue evening dress she chose sparkled as if it was made of a million snowflakes, and it brought out her ice-blue eyes beautifully. I confess even I was a bit stunned by how breathtaking she was.

“You… are going with _her_?! But she’s _a professor_!” Rose asked Al in a stunned, awed voice, echoing everyone’s sentiment.

“Oh, I’m not your professor _anymore_ , Rose dearest,” Madame Delacour replied kindly. “My engagement at Hogwarts was terminated yesterday, but I was graciously invited by the Headmistress McGonagall to attend the dance. And since I don’t know too many people around here, Albus - who is practically family - gallantly offered to serve as my escort and accompany me… as a friend.”

 _“With benefits, I hope,”_ Al mouthed soundlessly in my direction, and I could barely hold back a snort when he winked cheekily. The way his green eyes sparkled like freshly-poured champagne, I was fairly sure that the naughty sparkle had something to do with the famously beautiful French lady agreeing to Al’s invitation. The rumour was, she had a bit of a weakness for Al’s father back in the day when he saved her from the Great Lake – and judging by the old photographs, Al happened to be the spitting image of his dad in his youth. Oh, the Hogwarts rumour mill is going to positively explode in excitement tonight!

“Oh, I suppose if you’re going as friends…” Rose murmured to herself, clearly still having issues with trying to reconcile herself to the idea.

“Rose, if you’re going to be jealous, perhaps you should do that on your own time,” Hugo proposed leisurely – and oh, my God, does my boyfriend has the biggest set of balls in Hogwarts or what?! I had the terrible urge to laugh, only I honestly had no death wish, you see.

“I’m _not_ …” Rose started heatedly, but then looked at the smiling face and arched eyebrow of one Gabrielle Delacour, and she wisely shut up.

“Shall we?” I offered Lily my arm to resolve the awkward situation like the gentleman I was bred to be, and when she nodded happily, I took one last look at a smiling Hugo to last me a while. Soon, lovely, soon. This had better be one magical evening!

And it was. Of course we caused a bloody earthquake of scandal when we walked through that door, paired as we were. Parkinson-Nott almost choked on her canapé, and I’m fairly sure I overheard Freddie Weasley collecting bets from people who missed our little drama in the corridor on which one of the Scamanders was dating which one of the Weasleys, but I honestly thought McGonagall was going to swallow her glasses in surprise when she saw Al leading in Madame Delacour by the hand.

Those dancing lessons my father insisted on paid off indeed. Lily was a splendid dancer, but even if she wasn’t: _“It is not important if the lady can move,”_ my Grandmother Cissy had told me. _“It is the gentleman’s job to make her seem like she can!”_ So I danced until I could barely feel my feet, and not only with Lily, but with a smiling Rose, who no longer seemed to be grumpy, Madame Delacour – who challenged all my dancing skills and kissed me on the cheek before I led her back to Al – and even Headmistress McGonagall, who seemed uncommonly flushed and cheerful.

But all that time, my head was full of Hugo, and every time I caught a glimpse of him – laughing, dancing, or even just chatting with another person – my heart skipped a beat, my inherent jealousy threatened to overcome me, and I began to wonder if perhaps, he was having too much fun, and had forgotten about our plans. But when I had nearly given up hope, finally a slow song began to play, and Lily promptly collapsed next to Rose on one of the benches and told me she was skipping this one or her feet were going to fall off. I hastily excused myself and dove into the crowd to find Hugo, but I didn’t get very far. Long arms wrapped around me from behind, and I didn’t have to be told that he had found me.

I leaned back onto him, closed my eyes, and let myself drown in that heavenly scent of polished leather, warm skin, and the alluring unique musk that was purely “Hugo” in my hormone-addled mind. There was no better smell for me in the world. It started that slow fire at the bottom of my balls that could only go one way, and I could already feel my skin prickle in sweet expectation.

“May I have this dance?” he murmured into my ear, and I had to bite back a moan when I felt his warm breath on my sensitive skin.

“Oh God, yes, please!” I blurted out, and turned in his arms to face him. How was it that from close up, Hugo Weasley always took my breath away? Will I ever get over the shock of how blue his eyes are and how deep inside of me they were able to see? And that pretty, soft mouth with clusters of freckles all around it… oh… I launched myself at his mouth to make up for all the lost time, and I had to close my eyes not to lose my balance when I found my embarrassing eagerness returned with the same desperate passion. Merlin, will I ever get used to the idea that he is mine, and that kissing him is something I can do?!

“Would you be terribly upset… if I kidnapped you from this glamourous event… to ravage this lovely arse of yours completely?” he whispered into our kiss with that dark, seductive voice of his. When his hands landed on the arse in question and squeezed it to make a point, my cock answered before I could, and I reckon… _ohbloodyhell_ , it was a solid, resounding _“yesssss!!!”_. The answer I did give him in the end was not something to write home about, but the sound that escaped me would have made any Neanderthal proud.

“I take that as a yes?” he chuckled, to which I mewled most embarrassingly:

“ _Cantwedoitherenow?!_ ” – just because it was too far to that bloody tower!

“Baby, you read my mind,” he breathed with a radiant, sexy smile, which made my heart flutter and my... _other_... organs move. He paused briefly before murmuring quietly:

 _"_ Besides, I’m dying to taste you in my mouth.” Oh, he was totally mean that way – I nearly orgasmed a little, you know! I couldn't do that to my fine Italian trousers!

On our way out I noticed Lily shoot a shy, flirty smile at one of the Scamanders, while Rose engaged the other twin in a kiss that could lose the Gryffindors all house points if all the lights were on. Al and his date were nowhere to be seen – bloody boy, what a lucky sod! – but I wasn’t complaining. Right there in the palm of my hand, I held the thing I craved the most, and it was warm, and its grip on me was firm. I could wish for nothing better… just, perhaps, one thing: some reassurance, because it was worrying me to no end.

“There will be more after this… quickie, right? This is not, like, a one-night stand, right?”

He stopped and turned me towards himself. Those spellbinding eyes were on me for a second, and then he leaned down to kiss my brow, the side of my face, nuzzled my ears – _ohMerlinhavemercy_! – and when I closed my eyes, I felt the same fluttering kiss on my eyelids that melted my defences the first time.

“Hugo…” I whispered, but my words were caught by his mouth, and I lost all sense of reality.

“Scorp, baby… I’m going to open your fancy silken trousers right there, in that dark alcove by the door, and I’m going to pull this beautiful rosy cock of yours out… because I’ve been dying to lick… and suck… and worship you on my knees since the moment I saw you standing there, all polished and dandy, waiting for me. And then I’m going to take you to my studio and get you naked… with all the bloody lights on, every single candle, because I want to see… and feel… and own you… the whole of you. That marble skin turning pink, the perfect arch of your body when you offer yourself to me, the rosy nipples begging for attention, that obscenely hard cock leaking all the way down to your tense balls, that gorgeous round arse I’m dying to explore. I want to devour all your innocence… I want to corrupt you, my silver-eyed angel… and I want you to do it to me. My genius needs its inspiration, it needs more of you. _I_ need more of you. I need all of you, everything you can give me. You’re coming with me if I have to drag you up there and tie you down to stay.”

Oh my dear horny God… I was a complete and utter sucker for dirty talk as well… who knew? _Tie me down…_ that alone made me unfit to move in any direction, or I would have come on the spot. Let alone all that other stuff…

“Tie me down… with ropes and such…?” I asked weakly because the thought was… _ohmyfuckingMerlin_ …

“I was thinking… with my Gryffindor tie for a start, my little curious pervert,” he chuckled quietly, and bit my lip the way it made me moan wantonly. “And I’ll play with you, my naughty blond kneazle, until you promise to come back.”

“Yesss… I…”

“Every day.”

“Yes… every day.”

And I meant it. Every day. For the rest of my life. Because I had the one boy that was magical enough to see and love all the geeky, shy, and innocent parts of me right by my side, whispering _“You’re mine, blondie, and don’t you ever forget it. I don't share well... and I do love you so.”_  
  
To hell with my fine Italian trousers.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year 2017 and if the Universe is listening - you better make this one a better one, 2016 was a plague of a year!


End file.
